


Forgotten Souls

by LongWhiteCloud



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mobtale, Determination (Undertale), Drinking, Drug Use, F/M, Fights, Gangsters, Guns, Mafia Sans, NSFW, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Suits, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LongWhiteCloud/pseuds/LongWhiteCloud
Summary: Monsters were never banished underground, but have their own cities where, theoretically, monsters and humans can exist relatively peacefully alongside each other. But when a forgotten girl is found after 10 years missing in a turbulent city, questions are asked. In the middle of turf wars, smuggling and prohibition, what will happen when you throw some determination in the mix?





	1. Falling Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> First story ever published so we'll see how this goes! Want to be able to stick with it for the long haul so settle in! I'll change and add to the tags above as the story continues. Inspiration from the amazing nyublackneko's universe and characters!

The night had fully settled and the chill had just started to kick up the fog that would always appear around the dark harbor at night. The city wore the mist around its streets like it would help protect it from the cold, but the water always seemed to freeze underfoot and in sidewalk cracks. The lights across the way seemed to illuminate the fog around them, but coupled with the inky waves just below them, the night seemed distorted and eerie. It wasn’t the coldest part of the year, but Sans knew that this was the point when the weather would start reminding you just who was boss in the city. He took another deep drag, one of the last, from the cigar in his hands and let the smoke of it merge with the mist around him. The air was too still and the waves lapping against the pier just steps away were too loud. The large overcoat he wore protected him from the cold surrounding him, but did nothing to settle the chill that settled in his bones. Something wasn’t right. Something didn’t fit.

Grillby’s info, nine times out of ten, hell, ninety nine times out of a hundred, was always on the mark. Grillby had a way of knowing the ins and outs of a person and with the added perk of working at a bar, if eavesdropping didn’t work, after a few drinks, they would just up and tell you anyway. If there was anything to know about any leaked activity, Grillby would know the fact from the rumors. But that was the problem. You can’t be wrong when you don’t know anything. Nothing. Nobody knew anything about what was going on tonight. When Tori had first come across the info, Sans was surprised Grillby hadn’t said anything sooner. This amount of activity with this amount of people in an area that was well known for loading and offloading mob goods shouldn’t be hard to spot. Hell, someone could’ve just looked out a window and seen this normally abandoned warehouse a flurry of activity. Instead, complete silence on all gang fronts. No one had planned this, no one knew what was going on and no one, not even Grillby, had any idea why.

Sans didn’t like it. But when Toriel has a hunch and Papyrus had a mystery, majority ruled to just go and ‘check things out’. So here they were, waist deep in ‘just checking things out’, with the guards unconscious, the entire warehouse cleared and Papyrus doing a final sweep. "just checking things out" he chuckled as the final ash of his cigar withered away and deposited itself on the concrete.

It was going to be fun trying to explain this. He brushed himself off just as a steel door slammed open behind him. “SANS! ARE YOU DONE CHECKING OUTSIDE?! IS THERE ANYONE WE FORGOT TO TAKE CARE OF?!” Papyrus shouted at him as he leaned around the door. “relax bro. if there was anyone else out here, i would have _sternum_ coming”. He laughed at the resulting groan he received from the other skeleton. “THIS IS NO TIME FOR PUNS SANS!! NOW HURRY UP AND COME BACK INSIDE! WE HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS!” he said as he swung back around the door. Normally Sans would’ve taken his time, but the tone of Pap’s voice was just harsh enough that it worried him. With a final pass over the smudged outline of the city, he adjusted his hat and walked back inside.

The interior of the warehouse looked identical to when they had first come in, albeit the guards who had been guarding it were now a lot more horizontal than vertical. Sans could see that Pap had looked into the slap-together room at the back that would’ve been considered an ‘office’ but aside from that, there was no defining feature that would elude to what had been going on here. The side was built straight up onto the waterfront so goods could be unloaded directly from boat to warehouse, but the whole building was empty except for its occupants. No loading or unloading machinery. No transport of any kind. “this is a lot of guys for an empty building paps”. Papyrus was tapping the bone he had slug over in shoulder in thought.  
“I WAS THINKING THAT TOO SANS, AND COME LOOK AT THIS” Papyrus said as he paced over to the nearest unconscious guard. Sans followed him to see him pick up the weapon the monster must have dropped in the fight. “THIS GUN, AND EVERY OTHER GUN THEY HAD WITH THEM, IS NEW, TOP OF THE LINE LEVEL WEAPONS SANS. I DON'T THINK I'VE EVER SEEN ONE OF THESE OUT IN THE CITY” He was right. No gang was rich enough or reckless enough to outfit every single one of their people with weapons of this caliber. Where ever or who ever got these guns for them had a lot of gold to throw around. Sans stepped around his brother to quickly check the pockets of the monster’s suit and trousers. Nothing. No calling card. No colors. Not even pocket change. “if they were part of a mob, they would have something on them to ID them back to the gang they rep pap. these guys have nothing”  
“FREELANCERS?” Sans made a noncommittal grunt and stood back up, looking around at the other monster guards. Two tone suits of white and black. Not even a pocket square as color. Every gang around Ebott had their own colors and their own way of showing them. The bold red shirts that both he and Papyrus wore were testament to that. To go without colors would almost mean expulsion from your gang. These guys were either unaffiliated or just didn’t care, neither of which were a good thing. Sans looked around the warehouse, unable to shake the feeling that, although they were alone, there were eyes on them somewhere. The feeling sat poorly within him. He hated the idea of someone watching his every move from the shadows, always just out of your view, but you always in theirs. He hated the invasion of it and say what you will about him, he could at least always trust his gut feeling, despite the distinct lack of guts. “pap, we can’t find anything here. whatever was going down never happened or they’ve spooked and gone. we need to get back and report on this.” Papyrus let out a sigh and stood back up. “I SUPPOSE YOU ARE RIGHT BROTHER. IF SOMETHING WAS HERE, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULD HAVE SEEN IT BY NOW". He let out another heavy sigh. “LET'S GO. I'LL CALL RIVER” He swung the long bone he used as a club back over his shoulder and moved to exit, his other hand begrudgingly shoved into his pocket, scowling at the ground. Sans watched him retreat, feeling slightly disappointed for him despite never wanting to come in the first place. With a last look around, he let out a small huff of breath before following his younger brother outside.

 

* * *

 

Dark. Dark and cold. So cold. Cold was worse than the dark. You were used to dark. Dark was as much a part of you by now. But not cold. You weren’t used to cold. Didn’t believe Him when He said outside would be so cold. Didn’t know that cold would make you shake like you could back Home.

But you weren’t shaking now. You stopped shaking a while ago. Was that bad? You didn’t know. Now you were just sleepy. Still and tired. Maybe not shaking was good. Made it easier to hide. They would hear your teeth chatter. Or your body move. Still was quiet. And quiet was good. Isn’t that what He said? **_“Be good”_   **His voice like many. Loud but quiet. ** _“Wait in there until someone comes and gets you”_**. So you did.

You always tried to be good, but you were moved, but never got. You could see people move you through the gaps in the boards. Different people you hadn’t seen before. They picked up your box and took you but never got you. Put you up, and left you there. You had been in the box a very long time. Waiting. Being good. But outside the box was so bright. People with shapes so different to yours. Colors and shades you couldn’t begin to name. You wanted to slide between the cracks in the planks and touch them, to see if they were real, or pretend like back Home.

But that wasn’t good. Good was waiting and staying. Inside your box. Even when outside was so bright. Even when outside was so loud. Loud like just before. The bangs so big you closed your eyes and put your hands over your ears, you swore the bangs went through you. But now it stopped. Now it was quiet again. And cold. But it had never stopped being cold really.

Now you opened your eyes again, you could see moving through the wood down below. Moving slowly, carefully forward so to not make a sound, you pressed your numb face to the wood to look below. A tall person was below with lots of people lying down, a long bone in this hand and swung over his shoulder. The end was the same color as his shirt.

You knew that color. So many new colors you had seen but this color was old. This color was yours. It was inside you, but sometimes outside you. That color belonged to you. And he wore it too. Maybe you were both this color. Were they here to get you?

You pressed harder against the wooden floor of your box, trying to see better. They were looking around now. Walking, checking the corners below. For a brief moment they glanced upwards and you could see his face. You knew that face. It was different, angles and bumps where it should have been smooth, but it was white. No color. Smooth around the top and back. It was the same, but different. Perhaps he was here to get you!

You leaned forward more to look closer. Now there was a short person. They were talking to each other. You could only see a little bit of your color on this one. Hidden away underneath. You couldn’t see his face though. It was hidden under his funny shaped head. Maybe if you leaned forward just a little more.

Your numb fingers meet the edge of the box and you look down through the joinery. They’re moving. Looking at the people lying down. Are the looking for something? Looking for you? Maybe you should wait. Maybe they will come.

They move away out of your line of sight so you lean up against the wall of the box to see. The tall one is moving outside now. Looking down. No! He can’t see you like that. Look up.

He has his bone back over his shoulder and is leaving back outside. Wait. No. Are you here to get me? Were you supposed to get me?

The small one starts leaving too. No, stop! They never looked up. Were they here to come get you?!

You leaned forward desperately before you realized you were tilting. There was no more weight on the other end of the box you remembered just as you felt your stomach drop and the floor fall out from below you, sending you and your box home plummeting below.


	2. Falling Part 2

Sans heard the tiny gasp before it was followed by a mighty crash. He turned quickly, palm up and left eye aflame before realizing there was no movement save for a new broken mess in the middle of the floor. He leaned outside “pap, there might be something here”, and hears the thumps of his feet quickly approaching. He slowly advances on the broken planks and dirty cloth before looking up. Of course. The catwalks above. The sneaky trick that both seemingly he and Pap forgot that if you wanna hide something, hide it high. Last place people look is up unless you know it’s there. “SANS?! WHAT IS IT? DID YOU FIND SOMETHING?” Papyrus shouts as he rounds the door frame back inside. His eyes zero in on the debris. “WHAT HAPPENED?”

“something fell from the catwalks above pap. they must have hidden it” Sans glances up, sweeping the rest scaffolding high above for anything else. Papyrus scoffs. “AN ELABORATE RUSE! THEY MUST HAVE VALUED THIS BOX HIGHLY! BUT WHAT EXACTLY DID THEY HIDE?" He makes his way over to the debris pile before lifting up the strip of cloth that had fallen with it. He stops and a long pause follows. “…SANS, YOU MIGHT WANT TO COME OVER HERE” he says a lot quieter than he’s used to. Quiet for Papyrus at least Sans slowly strolls over and carefully looks under the cloth Papyrus has raised. Legs, arms and _oh sweet stars above_.

This was why they had that level of security. This would be why you would want to keep this as quiet as you possibly could. This was why everyone was armed and outfitted to the teeth. “IS THAT A HUMAN SANS?” murmured Papyrus. Indeed it was. An actual human. Thing was as thin as a wisp, dressed in a thin grey shirt that looked more like a dress, it was so long. They were splayed out, thick brown hair shorn off roughly at the shoulders, low bangs nearly covering their eyes. Their skin might have been almond if it weren’t for the dark bruising purples and the sunken translucence from a lack of sunlight. He noticed that their fingers were slightly blue and lips pale. How long had they been exposed to the cold? Papyrus reached over and gently prodded its arm, which caused its eyes to open gradually. They were dazed at first, slowly looking around before settling on the two brothers and snapping into and panicked focus. There was a flurry of activity from the body, as they anxiously looked around and tried to get their feet underneath them. There was a gasping cry of pain as they fell back down but dragged themselves away, back into the remains of a corner of the crate they had been stowed away in. “whoa whoa whoa, easy there human. you fell quite a way, careful.” Sans murmurs, extending his hand out. The human flinches away, eyes darting back and forth between the two brothers, fast shallow breathes rushing in and out of them. Sans lowers his hand.

They stay frozen like that for a few very long seconds. No one dared move except for the gasping rush of air in and out of the humans chest, their brown eyes running between the two of them in an panic. "Human" he heard Papyrus whisper. Whisper. He didn't think that level of volume was even possible for his brother. "I'm sorry if we frightened you. We didn't mean to." He slowly leaned forward onto his knees, the humans wide eyes zeroed in on the movement, but they didn't flinch away. "We heard you fall and are worried that you are hurt. We just want to insure that you are alright and help you treat your injuries. We won't hurt you, I promise." The human's eyes softened just slightly as Papyrus slowly lifted is hand towards them. "We won't force you, but you can come with us if you like", his arm was fully extended towards the human now, but he made no effort to move any more forward. Sans held his breath and the gasping breathes of the human slowed. "Please" Papyrus begged and let the silence drag out.

There was a pause, but slowly, achingly slowly, the human raised a thin arm to cross the gap between them. Papyrus remained motionless, hope dancing in his eyes as the small human closed the distance, their eyes never moving from Papyrus'. Finally, just before their hands touched, they stopped and shifted a wary glance back to Sans. Sans didn't think he had been more aware of every single body part than at that moment, keeping them as immobile as possible. A heavy gaze dragged out between, them before the human looked back to Papyrus and a tiny gentle smile graced the curve of they're lip. They gingerly grasped the pointer finger of Papyrus' hand, Papyrus' own smile erupting over his face. "Don't worry human. We have you." he joyously spoke. That made the human's small smile widen even more, before their face went completely blank and their now warm eyes rolled back into their head.

Papyrus dashed forward to take their weight as the fell towards him, supporting the small thing in his arms. He quickly gathered them up, settling to carry them bridal style and looked over to Sans. The ridiculousness of the situation fully hit him as his brother glanced over to him, worry and confusion in his eyes, and an unconscious human in his arms. "SANS, WHAT DO WE DO? THEY FEEL LIKE ICE", the worry making his voice peak back up. What indeed? They now had one of the most dangerous cargoes in all of Ebott in their hands and one of the most lucrative. Taking this any further was going to get their hands dirty in ways he didn't want to imagine, but leaving the human here would almost certainly mean them freezing to death, if they weren't found by a more unsympathetic gang first. They had to take them home, but if the other gangs found out, hell, the humans found out, they would be in so deep they couldn't climb back out.

"bundle them up pap. humans definitely shouldn't be that color of blue. we have to get them out of the cold. don't come until i say it's clear" he resigned."RIGHT! GOT IT!". Sans adjusted his hat, pulled his coat around him and walked back out through the door to the outside. The chill was just as bad out here and after glancing down the dark alley skirting down beside the warehouse, two spots of light illuminated the mist around him, followed by the turnover of an engine. Perfect timing. River was always where you needed him. After the car roared into life with a guttural roll, the sleek, black bullet of a car rolled to a stop just in front of him. "river", Sans started as he opened the passenger door. "keep it running, give as a few to organize a pick up. once we're in, gun it home. don't stop for anything. we have a number three with us" A curt nod from the hooded figure at the wheel was all he needed before opening the back door. Walking back to the warehouse, Sans stopped, peering into the night around him. For the slightest shift. The smallest glint of magic. Anything that would suggest that they weren't alone. "alright pap. let's go". With a bundle wrapped in the tarp that fell with the box, Papyrus hustled out the door as gently as he could, the top of a brown-haired head just visible through the wrapping. He climbed into the car, bending his impossibly tall frame so that the human remained as undisturbed as possible. Sans climbed into the front passenger seat and as soon as door frames hit metal, tires squealed and the car jumped into motion, weaving through the docks and back onto the streets and into the night. 

 

* * *

 

 

Your head hurt. Most of you hurt but you weren't tired anymore. You could feel the thumping of your chest, fast, pressed up against your sternum. You opened you eyes and your vision swam. Shapes and colors. They merged together a little bit. You blinked a little. That helped. Just along your field of vision, your color stood out like a beacon. Red. Red, you remember. Your eyes gravitated towards it before you could make out what it was. Slowly, the objects sharpened into focus, and the two people, tall and short were looking at you.

 

Everything suddenly snapped back. The box. Your home. You ruined it. You were bad again. He told you to wait and you didn't. Now look what you did. You scramble to get away. Who ever they are, they'll be mad, just like Him. You struggle to get your feet underneath you, but as soon as you put weight upon it, pain laces up your leg. You cry out and fall, still clawing to get away. You find an intact corner of your box left and curl up, expecting the fists to come, the punishment to start. You were bad again. You deserved this, you knew. But you didn't want this. You tried to be small. So small. So small they can't see you.

 

The short one raises his hand. "easy there human. you fell quite a way, careful". You expect his hand to curl to fists and the fists to strike and you shrink away. He looks hurt and slowly lowers his hands back. He has eyes like His. But different. They are dark and deep and hidden. But there is light in them. A small pin point focused on you. You can see his feelings in his eyes. He doesn't hide them quite as good as He does. They open up into wide circles, not the slanted pits like His.

 

You look back at the tall one. His eyes are tall like him. Skinny like him. His emotions shine out easy. They are worried. Surprised even. No one moves. You feel your chest move up and down on it's own. You look back and forth between them to watch for movement, but they both looked so shocked. "Human" the tall one whispers lowly. His voice is quiet and warm. "We heard you fall and are worried that you are hurt. We just want to insure that you are alright and help you treat your injuries. We won't hurt you, I promise."

 

Promise. Promise is big. Promise they won't hurt you. Won't punish you. Is this good? You thought the were here to get you. That they would be like Him. Maybe they aren't. But maybe they aren't here to really get you. He's slowly moving forward, but not angry. Soft and careful. "We won't force you..." he's moving his hand. Soft and careful. Not to hit you "...but you can come with us if you like". If you like? You can't remember the last time someone asked if you liked something. Whether you had a choice. His hand is hovering between the two of you, steady and unmoving, waiting for you to meet him in the middle. "Please".

 

Please. You almost tear up at please. No one has said please in so long. That was your word, not His. They aren't like him, and he said they won't hurt you. Promised. You slowly reach out. Gathering yourself to close the gap. Your ankle in throbbing so you're careful not to put weight on it and move to his hand. Just before you do, you stop and look back at the short one. He's very still, pinprick lights in his eyes shinning right on you. His eyes are deep but they say please too. Not as loudly. But it is there. You watch him for a moment more, just in case, before you turn back to the tall one. You grasp his finger lightly. It's hard and bony but _oh so warm_. Heat like a fire, so much better. "Don't worry human. We have you" Have you. Got you. They're here. They're here because you were good and now they are here. You smile because you made it. You finally made it. You were good. You can feel your eyes start to water before your energy shrinks. The desperation keeping you going fades and leaves you with nothing to keep you up. You feel yourself falling into the cold and the dark. You made it. You feel yourself being held. Close to warmth and your, theirs, _our_ color. You're here. "SANS, WHAT DO WE DO? THEY FEEL LIKE ICE" No. You're warm now up against something now. You're here. "RIGHT. GOT IT!" They got you. You're here. A tear spills over your closing lashes before you fall again, into oblivion.


	3. New start

The study at the back of a seemingly innocuous, hole in the wall, Italian like restaurant was usually quiet enough that the maple clock's tick was like a heartbeat. The wooden tones and the auburn walls were enhanced by the slowly dying fire at the hearth. Green toned furniture sat snug against walls aside from a large, solid desk near the back of the room. The light from the fire kept the room cozy and tranquil, with the occasional pop from a log slowly burning out. At this time of night, the clock would tick on, and the crackle of flames slowly diminish to embers.

So when the door was kicked in by a shined black shoe, the sound of the handle hitting the polished grain felt more offensive than the large dent that was now left in the paneling. Said shined black shoe was attached to a tall, panicked skeleton with a lone body draped in his arms. His eyes darted around the room before zeroing in on the plump green couch near the back of the room, where he gently laid down the human as comfortably as possible. Their eyes were still shut and head lolled as he extracted his arms, but now they seemed to be violently shaking. Papyrus remembered taking a tarp with him, but it must have gotten lost in the scurry from the car to get inside. A pang of uncertainty went through him before Sans' voice came from behind him. "grab some blankets pap. we have to warm them up as quick as possible. maybe boil some water in the kitchen as well, we need all the heat we can get".

"RIGHT AWAY BROTHER!" Papyrus said, turning and rushing out the door, handle hitting the wall a second time and gash deepening. Sans already had his suit jacket off and tossed it unlooking into the corner, alongside his fedora. He kneels down at the head of the couch. This is the first time he's gotten a proper look at you. The shallowness of your skin is much more apparent up close, and the dark bags under your eyes look like an artist had carved them there. Pain was etched across you face, and he didn't like how the lines it drew were far to deep for it not to have been repeated many times before. Brown hair turned chestnut in the light of the fire, and while it wasn't absolutely filthy, it had been a while since it had been cleaned. Or cut right. One side seemed longer than the other, like it had be shorn in clumps without looking. Your body was shaking with a strength he couldn't believe. You were so slight, tops of bones visible at the joints of your legs. Knees poked out just below the hem of the cotton shirt you wore, that, all things considered, looked like it told the same story you did. Sans grabbed your wrist, still too damn cold he noted, and felt for your pulse. It was easy to find, but a lot slower than he'd like. But at least it was there he told himself. Could be a hell of a lot worse. But could also be a hell of a lot better. He shook his head.

As he went to put your arm down, angry pink caught his eye. Dread shot like a bolt through him as his hand tightened around your wrist in anger. Even with the cold paling the skin of your arm, pink scared circles greeted him when he fully turned it over. Angry little stars, mostly centered around the crook of your elbow, born of injections and multiple needles. A larger one right in the center, where skin had puckered and ripped. Sans gasped, reaching for your other arm, dreading as to what he may find but knowing deep down it would be there. He turned your right arm over. "stars above..." They were there too, not as many, and not a furrowed gash like on your left, but _stars_  how many were there? Total? Did they stop at just your arms? Sans let his breath out with forceful exhale and looked back down to your wrist. He quickly realized how tightly he was squeezing it and released the pressure, little indents placed under his fingers . He didn't need to add to your pain. Stars know how much you had been through. How long? he wondered. How much? He looked back up to your face. The tension there had eased slightly he thought, but you we're still too cold and shivering. Where ever you had come from, who ever you were, you had arrived with baggage heavier than you were. Not only that, you were now a human on the wrong side of the city and that alone would get you killed. Sans looked down at your hands, smoother and more delicate than his could ever be and wonder just what the hell were they going to do with you?

"BROTHER, I HAVE BLANKETS AND WATER!" Papyrus' voice yanking him back into the moment. He was paused at the door way, a heaping pile of linen under one arm and steamy glass bottles in the other. In lieu of actual hot water bottles, Sans supposed those will have to do. Sans looked up at his brother but saw that Papyrus' eyes had filled with sadness, looking down at the junction of Sans' hand and your wrist, catching sight if the pinpoints that dotted your arm. Sans let out another sigh. "pap, we don't have any idea what happened here. how are we gonna deal with this?". His gaze flicking back to your forearms in explanation. Papyrus met his brother's eyes and gingerly set the bottles down by your side. There was a heavy pause as his brows furrowed and he handed the blankets over. "WE CAN HELP NOW SANS. WE DO WHAT WE CAN" serious tone punctuating the last words. Sans felt his smile widen at his brothers words. You would think at this point he wouldn't be surprised at how big his brother's heart could be, even for complete strangers. Pap didn't see the trouble, the harm, the work that came along with the human. He just saw that they needed help. People may have called it carelessness, or an inability to see the consequences, but Sans knew that, all things considered, Pap just knew it was the right thing to do, and that unconditionally, that they needed to help.

He smiled up at his brother, pride swimming through him and grabbed the top blanket he had handed him. "alright. blankets first then" he grinned, unfolding the first layer. "BLANKETS FIRST!" Papyrus yelled, grabbing the entire rest of the pile and unfurling them with one firm shake. Sans managed to get his laid out before it was buried under Papyrus' torrent of fabric. Sans slipped the hot bottles in close to your body to quickly warm you and stepped back. From the neck down, you seemed great, in a reverse princess and the pea kind of situation, with the blankets covering you having more space than you did. "DO YOU THINK THEY NEED MORE BLANKETS SANS?"

"i was kind of worried that it might be too much. do you think they would be too heavy?"

"HOW ELSE ARE WE TO WARM THEM SANS?"

"humans are warm blooded paps, they do their own warming"

"BUT THEY WERE SO COLD BEFORE!"

"but we can't put something too heavy on them. look at them, they're tiny"

"WHAT ABOUT MONSTER CANDY?"

"how are we gonna feed it to them if they're unconscious paps"

"WE CAN WAKE THEM UP"

"i'm not sure it works like that with humans paps"

"THEN WHAT WILL WORK WITH HUMANS SANS?" Papyrus exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air in frustration.

"i dunno pap. i'm not an expert here"

"NONSENSE SANS. YOU KNOW MORE THAN MOST!" Papyrus exclaimed with pride.

Before he could respond, from behind him Sans heard the quiet snick of the handle being turned and the door opening. If he had blood, it would have drained from his face to his feet. Shit. No. He forgot. The last person he wanted to be here right now. Crap what was she going to think... "What are you boys discussing this time?" He heard a warm, soft voice exclaim as the a white haired monster stepped into the room. She was wearing a modest olive jacket over her usual purple, accompanied by a similar colored hat to keep the chill off. She started unwinding her navy blue silk scarf and moved to hang it on the coat rack beside the door. "Or do I have to settle an argument like last time" she said, humor in her voice.

As she hung up her coat, Sans' gaze whipped to the human, then back to Papyrus. He seemed to be wearing the same shocked, guilty expression he knew he must have had. He glanced back to Toriel, quickly settling himself in between her line of site and the humans lone head on the couch, attempting to look relaxed but he could feel the beads of sweat starting to form. Papyrus seemed to be caught in shock, as when Toriel turned to face the brothers, the mirth in her features disappeared to caution. "What's going on boys? Did we find anything out at the docks?". A long silence followed her question, turning the features on her face from cautious to suspicious. Sans cleared his throat, hoping it might do the same to the tension in the room. "tori. right on time. can't fault your _pun_ ctuality..." A strained smile fit his face as he watched the pun fall flat and Toriel raise a brow. "What's going on you two? What happened down there?" Papyrus took a step forward, hands fidgeting in front of him.

"WELL TORIEL...YOU SEE... IT WAS A VERY COMPLICATED... SITUATION THAT AROSE. SANS AND I..." He looked to Sans for help as his sentence died, but was met with a forced smile and no answers."Boys... What. Did. You. Do?" Toriel's voice was frigid now. Silence ruled again before a gust of breathe left Sans and he stepped to the side. He couldn't hide this. Not from her. "tori. it's not what we did. it's what we found". Toriel's dubious gaze slided off him to the bundle situated on the couch.

At first it was confusion, like she couldn't make out what it was, but when her gaze caught the face of the human peaking out from the blankets, her eyes widened and her bag fell to the floor forgotten. Her hands flew to her mouth as if they could hold back her tears, but they formed anyway, sliding onto her white fur down her cheeks. A tiny whisper escaped her, because if anything louder had left her, it would have been a sob. "oh... child. oh _stars..._  child"  She slowly started to close the distance between her and the human, kneeling to where Sans had been and gently reaching out. Her white hands gracefully felt the human's forehead, before gently tucking their loose hair behind their ears. 

"tori, we..." Sans tried to start, but the words died as if they hit a wall as soon as they left his mouth. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his head, trying again." we found them at the place you gave us. there was nothing else there, a lota' security. they hid them up high in the rafters, but the box fell. they must've been there a while, we don't know how long but... we couldn't leave them." Toriel looked as if she didn't even hear him, her hand still resting lightly on the humans check, her gaze captivated by the small, pained face in front of her.

Sans felt like an idiot now. Bring the human here. Great idea. He had no idea how old this one was, but it looked around about the same age if... if everything hadn't gone so wrong. If Tori's child had survived. If either of them had. Him and Papyrus could have brought back any human, it didn't matter. Whoever it was it _could_  have been them. This is what Tori had missed. All the years that this child had grown were the years that were never given to hers, and here he was, dragging it in here and throwing it in her face without even thinking. There were so many things he could say now. He could apologize, but no words could make up what she and her husband went through. It wasn't his place to do so anyway. So silent he stayed. Waiting for her. It wasn't for him to say when she would be ready, but he figured the least he could do now was to wait for her when she was ready and help if she wanted him too.

"Boys" she said at last, an exhausted tone to her voice. "Could you leave?". It was meant as a question, but Sans knew that there wasn't the option of choice here. He walked to the corner and gathered his things, Papyrus already on his way to the door. "sure tori. Just... let us know if you need us" as he slung his jacket over his shoulder and hat in his hand. He approached the door and threw one last look over his shoulder. He immediately regretted it. This wasn't something he should have been a part of. This wasn't his to take. This should have been hers. It should, _could_  have been a mother caring for a sick child. The need to apologize arose again before Sans ducked his head and walked out the door, closing it behind him with a quiet snick. Outside the room, the two brothers stood. Sans let out a breath as if he could clear the heavy atmosphere from his lungs, but he still had a sinking feeling sitting in his stomach. He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and turned his head to see Papyrus reaching down, hand on his shoulder and a small forced quirk to one side of his mouth in comfort. With a light pat and a nod, he withdrew his arm and started back down the hall towards the front. Sans decided he would follow. It was going to be a long night. 

 

* * *

 

 

It was just getting to the point where the lone burning bulb above the table they were at wasn't needed, as the early morning light had come and was firmly pushing itself through the windows of the restaurant. Sans had swapped from the ketchup bottle he had been nursing most of the night to coffee, but that had started to grow cold as well. He sat there, fiddling with the handle of the mug while Papyrus had been picking at the loose threads of the red and white tablecloth. Papyrus had gotten a puzzle out a while ago, but it now sat abandoned to the side, out of lack of patience or concentration. They hadn't spoke much. Just sat and let the wheels of worry turn in their heads while the sleeping world had woke up and the city had started to come alive around them. The garbage guys had already come and gone when finally, _finally,_ the door the back opened and Toriel stepped through.

 

The noise had been startling in the quiet, and both brothers were on their feet, eyes trained on the goat woman. One would have thought she had just arrived, looking as put together and crisp as she had at any other time of day. Her clothes were righted and belongings accounted for, but everything seemed slightly heavier than it had been several hours ago. There was a weight to her actions as she politely closed the door behind her and glided to the table to take a seat. Sans and Papyrus followed, Sans with a slight sweat to his brow and Papyrus grasping his hands in front of him tighter than need be. "So..." Toriel spoke, followed by an almost fatalistic laugh, "We have just a small situation in our back room there now, don't we?". When Sans caught her smile, he relaxed in his seat and let out a chuckle.

 

"just a small one huh tori? not exactly the word i'd use"

 

"IS THE HUMAN OK TORIEL?" Papyrus shotgunned out, still a little anxious. Toriel's face softened and sadness crept into her eyes.

 

"As Okay as they can be, considering the state they were in when they were found. They had a sprained ankle from the fall you described Sans, and possibly a concussion. It would be best to wake them every 4 hours, just to make the head injury doesn't worsen. But it could have been a lot worse with that fall". Toriel's gaze fell to her lightly clasped hands on the table. "You were right to get blankets. I suspect they had hypothermia by the point you brought them in. But perhaps next time, maybe not quite so many, and not have boiling water bottles directly touching them." Her tone was light-hearted, but Papyrus hid his gaze anyway, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

 

"YES TORIEL. OF COURSE"

 

"But," she began again "that doesn't begin to cover the prior condition of their body and what must have been done to them."

 

"you're right tori. i didn't see much but i didn't like the look of it..."

 

"Her." Sans stopped mid-sentence, seeing Toriel's eyes resting sharply on him.

 

"right. the look of _her_." He paused, and after a nod of approval from Toriel, he continued. "i'm no doctor, but someone's been to town on her arms. lota holes and a lota tears that shouldn't be there".

 

"Coupled with the fact that they are under nourished, under dressed and simply uncared for, I dread to think what happened to her." Toriel said, remorse in her tone, but fire in her gaze. "This is inexcusable. A person, not even a human, can be treated this way. We will have to find a way to help her become healthy enough so we can ask just what in all of Ebott is going on." Toriel saw Sans' perpetual smile lower slightly with a grimace.

 

"hang on a sec tori, are we sure we want to do this?" Anger rolled in Toriel's chest before Sans held up his hands in defense "not from a morality point of view. i'm not sayin' we toss her to the street. but you have to know how this look's tori. how long are we going to be able to keep this a secret?" This gave Toriel pause, her head lowering and a sigh leaving her. "I know Sans. I know how this looks. Me especially turning up with her in my care. The human's will be out for blood."

 

"and no one's faulting you for wanting to take care of her tori, i'm just saying we have to be careful about this"

 

"CAN'T WE JUST GIVE HER BACK TO THE HUMANS?"

 

"not that simple pap. first off, in the state she's in? I don't think it'd be safe to move her again for a while. second, if we just show up at their doorstep with a missing human in our hands, things are going to get worse rather than better". Papyrus tilted his head in confusion. "the seven human children that went missing pap?'" Sans explained. "the one's that monsters were blamed for all that time ago? i'm willing to put money down that she's one of them". Papyrus' eyes widened as he sat up a little straighter.

 

"AND GIVING HER BACK WOULD MEAN..."

 

"they'd have 'proof' they we did". There was a pause of silence before Sans leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table in front of him. "look, we don't know what occurred, or why she's here now, but after everything that... happened," his gaze flicked to Toriel "we need to keep her safe. but he have to keep her hidden. as much for her as for us. i can't imagine the other gangs would be too happy about a human in their midst". A tiny smile quirked Toriel's mouth just slightly at this before she exhaled. "Alright Sans. You make a very valid point. We'll keep her here so that no one see's us moving her. She should have everything she needs here and she can regain her strength."

 

At this, Toriel gathered herself up into her proper posture again, back to the commanding woman she had been when she had first arrived. "Until then, she will need caring for. Boys, I want you to wake her every 4 hours to make sure that concussion doesn't worsen and make sure she stays warm, not hot." Papyrus had straightened his posture in response to the command, determination in his eyes. "When she's awake, give her something eat, but don't let her over eat. She probably can't handle large meals just yet." Papyrus jumped at this. "YES! A SMALL HELPING OF A WELL BALANCED PASTA WILL SURELY HELP!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Toriel smiled and turned to Sans.

 

"Make sure she's comfortable first before asking anything of her. I suspect she won't open up to us right away so we will have to wait for her.". Toriel stood and gathered her jacket from the back of her chair as well as her bag resting below. "I will see what I can do about making some clothes for her. That terrible thing she's in needs to be thrown out. I'm sure you can find something for her until then?" Sans was the last to stand from the table.

 

" _shirt_  thing tori. leave it to us" His grin widened at the groan from Papyrus and the giggle from Toriel who had reached the front door of the restaurant. At least it had helped to mood a little bit. "I'll be back in a few hours with some clothes and supplies. She should hopefully sleep for the most part." Toriel's gaze became heavy on the brothers as her hand rested on the door's handle. "Look after her until I get back". She didn't say it, but she didn't need to. With her serious tone, the brother's knew what was at stake here. With a final nod, Toriel swept from the room and into the morning outside, leaving the two skeletons with their charge. The brother's looked at each other, a long uncertain silence drawn out between them. "WELL, I SUPPOSE I WILL PUT THE SPAGHETTI ON."


	4. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while. Was out of the country for a few weeks. More prompt updates from now on.

You should have been more worried that you were dead. 

 

 

Death was a scary thing. The scariest thing in the world. People spent their whole lives either trying to avoid it or embracing it's opposite just to spite it. Apparently.

It was a dark, evil thing; the worst possible condition to befoul someone. Apparently.

Which was why you were surprised that, the times you were slightly more lucid, you were comfortable. Warm. The surface you were lying on had give to it. It molded around your body instead of the cold, rigid support you were used to being placed on. It was soft and comforting, and maybe a little scratchy, but that just added to its charm. Its reality. It seemed to wrap around you, in a comforting hug that made you feel something you hadn't felt in so long. You felt safe. Safe and warm. Death wasn't supposed to be safe and warm. Apparently. 

 

 

But it was supposed to have angels, and considering there was one in front of you, it must have been heaven. The first time she woke you, she dragged you from the depths of unconsciousness. Like pulling you from the bottom of an ocean, the light slowly came to you. The fog cleared from your head slightly as you squinted through heavy lidded eyes and you saw her. She was all white. Bright and perfect, smelling of something sweet you couldn't possibly have a name for. You tried opening your eyes more but they were so heavy. You wanted to see her. She lifted a hand to your forehead and you felt a soft pressure there before your eyes shut of their own accord and you went back into unconsciousness again.

 

The second time was better. When you felt the light of consciousness bring you up again, your head felt sharper and thoughts that had moved so sluggishly before had force behind them. You remembered the warehouse, the fall, and the two people that had saved you. After that, nothing. So where were you now? You opened your eyes and glanced a bright figure of white near you. Your angel. A smile graced your face as you took the time to really see her. She was faced slightly away from you, looking for something in a bag resting on a desk, but you could still see the profile of her face. She had glorious white fur that seemed perfectly arranged and straightened, not a dark patch or blemish in sight. A purple halo sat on her head that matched the purple of the clothes she was wearing. A deep, rich color that reminds you of bruises, but it didn't have the insipid, blueish hue like bruises. A wholesome purple, full of life that stretched down to the warm cocoa of her shoes. There were tiny little sparkles stuck to the hem of her dress and you wondered how she got them to stay there without falling off. The buckle on her shoe shined prim and proud in the low light of the room, matching the occasional shine from the balls of glass that hung from her neck when they caught the fire at just the right angle. She looked empowering in the low light of the fire and it made the fur at the back of her head seem to take on a slightly orange hue. 

 

She turned to face you, inky eyes drawing you in and wrapping you up in the smile that widened her face. You couldn't help but let your smile widen back at her. "Child" you thought you heard her whisper as she floated towards you on carefully soft steps and knelt down to bring herself level with your face. She rested her hand on your temple again, but lowly shifted away the hair that was falling into your eyes. The action was slow and cautious, with her looking into your eyes the whole time, watching for a reaction. When you merely returned the action with a slow blink and a soft sigh, she drew her hand back over your forehead with a purpose. You felt a heaviness settle in your mind and a comforting tiredness wrap itself around you as you snuggled into the sleep she seemed to give you.

 

 

The final time you awoke was much, much worse. Instead of the floating alertness you had had, you were wracked with stiffness and pain. The comfort you felt had almost vanished, leaving behind a sweaty heat from the blanket atop you and a deep throb that seemed to originate from your ankle. Your fall. You must be alive. Back again in a world of uncomfort and head pain. And foot pain. And pain pain, stars above did you  _hurt_. Why did the real world have to hurt so much? Death had been much nicer all things considering. Ironic that your whole life, you had been so terrified of it, warned of it, blackmailed with it, and when you had eventually gotten there, it was... actually quite nice. 

 

Was it wrong that you thought that? Was it bad that you wanted that level of comfort again?

 

 

Your tired brain spluttered at the intense thought and you let out a huff of breathe. You were much too stiff and frankly ill-tempered to be contemplating this kind of thought right now. You needed a cool drink of water, and a stretch to bring life back into your seized muscles. You wrestled with the blanket on top of you until they fell in a knotted pile onto the floor. You already felt less clammy. Swinging your feet onto the ground beneath you brought protests from your sides and back as you sat up properly, but you prepared yourself for the inevitable pain in your ankle. How ever long ago that fall had been, it must have done a number on your body, but surprisingly, when you looked down, it wasn't as bad as you anticipated. There was a definite difference between your left and right, with a large amount of swelling and bruising, but if you knew anything about injuries, and you did, this one looked old. Too old. The purples had faded to yellows around the edges, leaving only a small part of the joint colored. This wasn't an ankle that had been fallen on recently, how long had you been asleep?! You rotated it experimentally, and was given a sharp jolt for your trouble. OK. Still had a bit of bite too it, but manageable all things considering. Before you resigned yourself to putting weight on it, you rolled your neck, hoping to help with the headache and stretched your arms above your head. Pops from your joints seemed to shotgun from your arms and down your back, slightly easing tension and earning a sigh of relief from you.

 

A snort came from the opposite corner, and you instantly swallowed your sigh and whipped your head up to face the noise. You held immeasurably still as panic shot up your heart rate before another snort from the corner turned into a snore. The noise originated from a wrinkled grey suit, or really, the bones that were inside the suit, resting on a plump one-seater in the corner. You swallowed the alarm that had seemed to get stuck in your throat and slowly, very slowly, you rised from your make shift bed, feeling your muscles stretch in an aching gloriousness. Your ankle still had something to say though, as the weight you slowly put on that leg gave a warning shot of pain, before you decided to rest your weight on your good side. Finally upright after your sluggish ascent, you let out a respiteful sigh when no other sounds or movement came from the corner. You gave your environment a quick once over before looking back to the offending corner. You didn't want your eyes off of it for too long, but you looked to be in an earth toned room, full of warm greens and browns, helped by the embers in a fireplace across from you. You had spied a large bookcase behind a very big desk and immediately quashed the excitement rising in your stomach. That would have to wait. The corner was first. 

 

With measured steps, you tried making as little noise as possible as you crept closer. This wasn't to much success, with your exaggerated limp causing the floor to creek offensively every time you put your full weight onto the leg that would actually support you. You held your breath until you crossed to room, relieved that your boisterous parade hadn't stirred the suit anymore as you finally came to stand right next to the chair. 

 

Up closer, you can see the details of the suit more clearly. It's slightly wrinkled from wear, but the material looks fine and well stitched. It was a deep charcoal, almost black in the low light, over top a strong crimson shirt. Tiny lighter grey lines vertically ran the length of the jacket and pants that you wouldn't have been able to see unless you were this close. Shiny black leather shoes peaked out the end of the trousers, a small gap hinting at the white bones that filled them. The chest of the suit slowly rose and fell, with the black necktie loosened and the top collar button undone. You could peak through the shirt opening to see the shadows of small white vertebrae leading down below the collar. You felt your face flush as you realized just where you were looking to and how close you had leaned in. You swallowed your embarrassment and slight guilt and quickly peaked to the head of the body. You could see the bottom of a skull, but most of the head was covered with a fedora that same color as the suit. It rested over his face and you could hear the slight rush of breath coming in and out of his chest and hitting the fabric of the hat. It came in the smooth, slow rushes of sleep, but taking no chances, you held still for an extended moment, measuring the lengths of breath for any kind of change. Not daring to move, you looked over the well dress bones before the realization came flooding back.

 

The short one. This was the small skeleton at the warehouse. The image flooded back into your now awake mind, two skeletons, tall and short, pulling out of literal wreckage and into the light and the warm. Relief ran rampant through you. Now you at least knew you were safe. Condition and where-a-bouts were still to be determined, but at least the where ever place you were, had to be safer than anywhere outside. While the saviors in pinstripe had been strangers, they had looked after you in your most vulnerable state.

 

Just like  _He_  had said they would.

 

Your stomach curls at the thought of him and you can feel your hands tighten to fists at the knowledge that he had been right.

 

He was always right.

 

And you hated it. 

 

 

You tried to dispel the thought of him, but it had left a pit of worry in your stomach now. You looked back to the short one, still snoozing in the armchair and uncertainty crept back into you. You kind of remember the warehouse. You remember the fall, the cold and the two of them, but you also remember the trepidation at first seeing them. The tall one had been lanky. Stretched. And a lot more different to Him. He wore his emotions as well as his clothes, which looked like they were both as genuine as each other. The short one though... His face wasn't exactly like His, but he had eyes that were similar. Eyes that were dark holes that stretched down, down. Eyes filled with things he would never tell you. Secretes inside them. Deep. Just like His. And a smile. That stupid, stupid smile.

 

Your brows had pulled downward and a frown was on your face now. That raised an excellent point. You were here now. You were told to be good, and you were because now you were here. But why? He never told you why, or what to do once you actually got here, so what did these two monsters have planned for you? The similarities between Him and the short one was worrying, but in the end, they had protected you. They had taken you into the warmth and had probably saved your life because of it. They had been kind, gentle, and trustworthy. And that must be worth something.

 

You gathered your strength inside you. Whatever plan they had, what ever may happen with these two, you would survive it. Just like you always had. And always will. 

 

Determination running through you, you sent a challenging look down at the short one, who still had his hat planted over his face with small snores coming from underneath it. You let out a deflated breathe and almost rolled your eyes. Should you wake him up? Would that make him angry? You cautiously poked at his shoe for a reaction, which only gave a snore. Another poke, a louder snore. A frustrated sigh left you before you could stop it as you leveled yourself to his head and slowly, very slowly, moved his hat away from his face. It was wider than you expected, suited to fit a much bigger head, but once moved, revealed a face slack in sleep. His eyes were closed and a smile stretched across his face, even in sleep, but the tension you had seen when you first met was gone. He looked relaxed, and with his eyes closed, the similarities that worried you disappeared. He was stouter, wider, with a tactile bone similar to the tall one you were assuming. You looked down to his hat in your hands, wondering how someone could have such a wide head. You gently floated it over his head, trying to match the shape and the size before moving it over your own. It was wide enough that it went past your head completely, covering your eyes and stopping just on your nose. Before you could stop it, a smile graced your lips as the much too big hat teetered on your head, blocking your view almost completely save for a sliver of light down by your nose. You rotate your head back and forth, but with nothing to grab onto, you can feel the hat not moving with you, pivoting on the point that it sits on top of your head. You slowly lift the brim to check that the short one was still asleep, then rest it back down and try a couple more experimental turns. It tilts this time, and now rests askew so that it covers half of your face. You giggle at this when you catch a look of yourself reflected in the short ones polished shoe. You lean down to get a closer look, but your face is wonky in the smooth, shiny leather and covered mostly by hat.

 

 

" _suits_  you, kid"

 

Your heart is immediately in your throat and panic grips your brain tight. You whip your head up to the short one to see that his eyes are now half open, wide pupils trained on you and a lazy smile still across his face.

 

You fall backwards with a loud yelp, grabbing the hat and pushing it away from you as if it was made of fire. You try to scuttle away and put as much distance between the two of you, but again try to push off your bad foot. You cry out in pain as the short one jumps out of the chair with a chorus of "woah, woah, woah, woah". You grip your ankle and look up to see him upright now, eyes open wide and filled with worry. He looks disheveled from sleep, but his eyes are sharper and narrowed onto you, with sweat starting to form at his temple. You look up to him with stalled breath, waiting for something to happen, but silence lengthens between you. You are now painfully aware how much your ankle hurts, but don't want to move and risk making the short one angry. Stars knows he should be, after you took something of his without permission. But the look in his eyes isn't rage, it's caution, just like back in the warehouse. 

 

Unsure of what to do, you elect to keep quiet, as it's never failed you before, but your ankle throbs with a new force that you try to hide. You let out a small whimper and the short one's expression softens. He starts to move closer to you, but you flinch and lean further back. "i won't hurt you kid. i just want to have a look at that ankle. make sure you're ok." You analyze his face to find any kind of deception, but he seems sincere. Slowly, he crouches towards you and you don't flinch away. He kneels and gently moves his hands to your foot, placing them over your own and slowly moving them away. They don't feel like how you would expect. You expected maybe slightly warmer, like when you were carried away from the warehouse, but they're not cold either. They feel... alive, a thrumming life beneath them, just below the surface. They're solid, but have more give in them than you realize as he slowly moves over your inflamed joint. He presses into a spot that makes you gasp and he winces in return. "sorry, kid. it's not as bad as it was, but it's definitely better. toriel did a hell of a job".

 

He looks up to your face, which has eyes as wide as dinner plates glued to it. It's been so long since you've heard someone else use that word, it's shocking to hear it in another's voice.  _Sorry..._  Not only that, but using a curse as well! You can feel your mouth hanging open at the use of the H word as he looks at you in slowly emerging horror. "oh shit. i'm sorry. i didn't mean to..." Your eyes widen even further as he continues to back track. "damn it, no i..." You let out a small sound and he lets out a sigh of defeat. "ok. let's start again. how are you feeling?" You slowly look down at yourself and back up to him. You nod slightly and he seems to relax, his strained smile widening. "good. tori can have another look at this when she comes back." Tori? It's a name you don't know, but file away for later as he hoists himself back up off the floor. "it's good that your properly up. we were starting to worry. you were out for quite a while, but with all things considered..." he glances over to you and his gaze drops. "well, at least now we can work on helping you get better". His gaze seems sorrowful then as he moves to retrieve the thrown hat and straighten his clothes, but when he looks back, his face is clear and smile wide. "we should get some food in you. might make you feel better, and i'm sure pap will appreciate finally being able to feed someone. can you walk?" You look down to your ankle, debating whether you might be able to tough it out, but the painful stretch from the tiniest movement has you shaking your head. The short one shrugs, "all good. i'm sure pap won't mind helping. i would but pap has a better... _hat_ itude about it" he says as he places his hat back on his head. He seems to wait for something while staring at you, but turns away with a grimace. "tough crowd" he murmurs as he opens the door. "paps!" He shouts outside the room, "she's awake, do ya mind lending a hand?".

 

There's a distant clatter and a roar of noise before soft footsteps like a drum beat start up from the distance. "just... fair warning" the short one says as the beat becomes louder, "he's a lot more... enthusiastic than what you might remember." The steps reach a final crescendo outside the door before the door swings open with a lightning force, revealing a tall, imposing figure in its place. You don't even have time to get a proper look at them before a shout shocks any thought you had out of your head. "SANS! IS SHE WELL?!"

 

 

"yea bro. she's awake, but she could still..." He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before you're wrapped up in an embrace that's tight, but not painful.

"HUMAN!" you hear shouted close to your ear. "WE WERE SO WORRIED! I'M GLAD YOU ARE NOW AWAKE AND FEELING BETTER! You were being slightly smothered into a broad chest covered in deep red fabric and all you could see were collar bones. He had picked you up into an embrace before you even had the chance to prepare yourself, and you had no idea what to do. You can't remember being held like this except if it was to be restrained. Your whole body had tensed without your knowing, preparing for the inevitable punishment that comes with this kind of proximity. When nothing came and the hug merely lengthened, your fright turned to confusion. You didn't know how to deal with this. You couldn't understand what was going on. It was overwhelming and new, but not right but good and you couldn't stop the tears that rushed down your cheeks and a sob that shotgunned out of you.

 

"pap, stop. you're hurting her!" the short one called from beside you as there was a sudden space between you and the wall of bones. You finally got a good look at the serial hugger and took in his long face, square shoulders and open smile. Recognition dawned as you let out another sob, trying to wipe your eyes and nose, knowing the mess you'd make. "I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T KNOW THEY WERE SO FRAGILE! HUMAN ARE YOU OK?!" the tall one shouted, hands still holding onto your shoulders, but only gently. He had rolled up the sleeves of his collared shirt so that you could see the long bones of his forearms. He still seemed to be wearing the same thing you remembered from last time, but a stained and well-worn apron had been thrown over top. He also hadn't changed the look of concern over his face, however he seemed more panicked, looking at you with a care you just weren't accustomed to. 

 

 

You nodded slowly, trying to stop the tears because it seemed to be making both of them unhappy, and they both seemed to relax slightly. "let's just take it down a notch pap, just for a bit while she gets settled. she did just wake up"

"RIGHT SANS! OF COURSE! I'M SORRY HUMAN! I WAS MERELY EXCITED TO SEE THAT YOU ARE AWAKE! I HAVE BEEN PREPARING FOR THIS SINCE YOU ARRIVED YESTERDAY!"

 

Yesterday? You've only been here two days? You looked back down at your ankle in confusion. It hurt, but there was no way you had fallen from that height a mere two days ago. You had been able to hobble on it. It looked as if it had spent weeks healing already. You looked back up at the skeletons in confusion. "don't worry kid, we'll explain everything that happened while you were out. pap, why don't we get her to eat something first? she can't walk on her own"

"RIGHT! COME HUMAN! LET ME ASSIST YOU TO THE KITCHEN!" This time, with a much slower pace, the tall one gracefully puts one arm under your knees and lifts you up to carry you. You notice he's being much more cautious this time, leaving a substantial gap between the two of you. He carries you from the room, taking care not to jostle you as he rounds the corner and starts down the hall. "DON'T WORRY HUMAN! I HAVE SPENT SOME TIME PREPARING SOMETHING FOR YOU! SINCE I DID NOT KNOW YOUR PREFERENCES, I HAD TO GUESS, BUT I AM SURE YOU WILL LOVE IT!". You smile at his enthusiasm and again attempted to clean your face. You know it must be a mess, as you were always an ugly crier, but the tall one doesn't seem to care as he forges on. While his demeanor had been boisterous, his confidence was reassuring. Things were odd and confusing and new right now, but with the confidence the tall one seemed to have, things might start sorting themselves out from here. He seemed to have a plan for you and you were glad that someone finally had a purpose for you. A reason they pulled you out of that box. Things finally had a meaning.

 

It filled you with determination.


	5. Overwhelming

You didn't know what to expect in all honesty. But even if you had the time, or capacity, to think of something, it wasn't the multiple tiny little bowls spread with exact spacing across a bold, red and white table cloth.

The tall one had swept you into a sturdy dining chair and assembled an entire dining room around you, dragging a table into the small kitchen alcove and flourishing the table cloth over top. Cutlery followed, with a knife-fork-spoon almost like a one-two-three rehearsed step. Before you had a chance to balk at the utensils, the small bowls started falling like raindrops, perfectly onto their designated squares on the table cloth from the large tray the tall one was carrying. One after the other, colorful bowls of long ropes descended. White and cream mostly, but every so often a dash of orange or a splash of green would make its way in amongst the pattern. Sauces of reds, whites, greens and your pretty sure a single black one, clung to the long strings, pooling in the middle. When the entire table was almost covered with dishes that could fit in the palm of your hand, the tall one finally deposited the last small bowl and stood back, large tray under his arm and pride radiating like the sunset behind him. Steam had just started to gently waft up from the dishes and the smell hit you and -  _oh dear stars_.

"HUMAN" the tall one spoke, but he seemed much further away than the small bowls of long strings that smelt like joy itself. "I WASN'T SURE WHAT YOUR PREFERENCES WOULD BE WHEN IT CAME TO PASTA. SO, TO COMBAT THIS, I PREPARED EVERYTHING!" You didn't see the flourish he performed, as you had eyes for the pasta only as your stomach seemed to cavern and your mouth water. You couldn't remember eating anything that smelt so...  _good_.  

"WHILE I PREFER THE TRADITIONAL STYLE OF SPAGHETTI MARINARA, I'VE PREPARED A WIDE RANGE OF SPAGHETTI, FETTUCCINE AND OTHER HAND-MADE NOODLES; MOST TRADITIONAL, BUT OTHERS MADE WITH PUMPKIN AND SPINACH! THERE IS ALSO A WIDE RANGE OF SAUCES WITH TOMATO, CREAM, OR WINE BASES, AND THERE IS EVEN A RAMEKIN WITH A SQUID INK SAUCE I'VE BEEN WANTING TO TRY! EACH HAS BEEN MIXED AND MATCHED SO THAT WE CAN FIND YOUR FAVORITE COMBINATION!". You had no hope of knowing what all those foreign words were and what bowls they went with, but he couldn't possibly mean that all of this was for you. Your eyes were wide over the canvas before you and if you could survive on want alone, you would never need to eat again. Your eyes darted from one serving to the next, the sheer number of them overwhelming. Along with the smell, the colors you never knew food could be and the painful ache of emptiness from your stomach, you could almost cry again.

The door opened and closed behind the tall one, tearing your eyes up for just a second. The short one was back, shirt tucked and jacket on, looking slightly more straightened than before, along with his hat back on his head. You looked back down in embarrassment before he could catch your eye, which was absolutely fine considering the spread in front of you. He seemed to have a similar impression when he finally caught sight of the table. 

"hey, uh... pap... that's quite a bit of food there. remember she's not supposed to eat too much."

"OF COURSE SANS! I'VE DESIGNED THE TASTING PALETTE SO THAT SHE ONLY NEEDS A MOUTHFUL FROM EACH, THEREFORE MAXIMIZING TASTE EXPERIENCE AND VARIETY! IT WILL ALSO HELP WITH THE HEALING!"

"alright" he said with a chuckle, "you seem to know what you're doing then". He slowly pulled up a chair and swiveled it so that he could sit and lean forward onto the back, watching you over his crossed arms. You could feel his eyes resting on you now and when you chanced a glance up, both of them were now watching you with scrutinous gazes.

Silence drew out as no one seemed to want to move first, each of you waiting for the other. The tall one looked at you with a building anticipation until he looked to be almost boiling over. He threw a few nervous glances to the short one, who cleared his throat. "what are you waiting for kid? go ahead"

The end of the sentence started a flurry of activity. Now that you had permission to eat, you grabbed at the closest vessel like it was being taken from you and brought it straight to your mouth. Cutlery forgotten, you ate straight from the bowl as if you hadn't eaten in days, which, in all honesty you hadn't. You set upon the food with a rabid abandon, finishing the first bowl entirely with a few gulps and grabbing for the next without looking. You could feel the sauce on your face dripping down onto the table below, but in this perfect moment you couldn't care less. You didn't care about anything else. The food tasted so good and so strong. Flavors exploding for a few glorious seconds that you were sure someone dreamed them up they were so good. You finished the next one and snatched at another bowl. It was just as amazing as the last. Different in ways you didn't have words for but you didn't think words existed to describe what you were experiencing. You wanted to savor the taste, but the panicked part of your brain took control, trying to eat as much as possible, as quickly as possible. Who knew when you were going to eat next? Another bowl, another gulp. You gasped out a breath after forgetting to breathe for the last few servings.

You quickly reached for another bowl when a voice piped up that was not in the near vicinity of the plates so designated unimportant by your over-firing, rabid brain. "uh...kid... you might wanna slow down there...". The small mountain of empty plates gathering below you started to hinder your progress, so you leaned around it for the next one. "HUMAN! YOU'RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO HAVE ONE FROM EACH!". You wiped your mouth with the back of your arm before finishing the pasta and moving on."HUMAN! PLEASE SLOW DOWN!!" The finished plate in your hands clattered onto the table, only to be replaced again. "stars, kid. you're gonna be sick. stop it." You should listen, but you were just so hungry. Food had never tasted this good. You reached for a new bowl across the table before a bony hand lashed out, gripping at your wrist and holding it down onto the table with a force that halted your manic eating. The shock caused your head to turn up into the dark pits of the short one's eyes, his tiny pupils pinpointing you in their gaze and freezing you in place. 

 

"kid. stop" 

 

His smile was just a little to wide and frozen in place and the words short and clipped. Authoritative. His stare held you trapped almost as much as his hand did on the table. A beat passed before his grip loosened and he retracted his arm. You slowly pulled yours back as well, eyes still on him until he settled back into his chair, sharp eyes holding yours. You feel your cheeks heat and you finally drop your gaze in shame.

You should have listened. You should have stopped, but you were so hungry. You were still so hungry. Stars you never knew food could taste like that. Like  _something_. There was a depth to it you wish you had the ability to describe. It filled your stomach in a way that bread and water never could. It had been so long since you had known satisfaction like that. You had gripped the end of your shirt in frustration, want and shame. You could feel the pressure of tears building behind your eyes again as the sauce still on your face dripped onto your lap.

Silence reigned as you gripped your shirt, scared to glance up at the skeletons. You could feel their heavy gazes and wanted nothing more than to shrink down into the floor. You heard the scrape of a chair near the tall one and a long arm creep over to the cutlery on the edge of your vision. It picked up the fork and slowly receded out of view. A few more scrapes from his direction before a tentative "HUMAN?" You gripped the hem of your shirt so hard your knuckles turned white. You didn't want to look up and see the disappointment in their eyes, but ever the sadist, you peered up at him anyway. The tall one had a fork extended out to you, a loop of twirled pasta fixed on the end. He had one of the small, remaining bowls in his hands and a hopeful look on his face. You glanced between the fork and his face, confusion written across your own, before he reached out until the fork was only an inch away from your mouth. Experimentally, you opened your mouth, watching as a smile cross the tall one's face as he fed you the bundle of strings. Eyes wide with hesitancy, you took care to chew slowly this time as he reached to grab another one of the full bowls. He twirled the fork in a practiced motion and repeated the action in front of you, glittering eyes never leaving yours. 

Back and forth this went, one bowl after another in a slow dance that left you uncomfortable with this level of care. You glanced back over to the short one at one point and saw his shoulders had relaxed and pupils widened in approval. "SLOWLY HUMAN, WE DON'T WANT YOU TO BE SICK." the tall one said as he placed the fork and bowl down onto the table. "IT LOOKS LIKE YOU HAVEN'T HAD A PROPER SIZED MEAL IN A WHILE. EATING TOO MUCH, TOO QUICKLY WILL DO MORE HARM THAN GOOD. I KNOW IT'S HARD, BUT IT WILL BE BETTER FOR YOU LONG TERM. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" You swallowed your last mouthful and nodded. You did, really, but the untouched food at the other end of the table seemed to shimmer under the low light of the kitchen. It felt refreshing though, to have someone explain why they were doing the things they were. They wanted understanding and not just obedience.

The tall one started packing the empty bowls back onto his tray, so you looked back down again to try and avoid the short one's gaze. You knew they were right, but you still felt shame at his scolding. You fiddled with the loose threads of your shirt, hoping that picking them apart might also relieve the tension between you. "kid?" You shot a tentative gaze up to meet his own. "i'm sorry. it got a bit heavy there. you ok?" You're not sure, but you nod anyway in the hopes it'll help. His smile warms and you relax slightly as he chuckles. "guess we're both still learning"

Learning what you don't get to ask, as a lock clicks and the door opens outside the kitchen, causing the two skeletons to snap to attention and shock to run through you. "It's just me boys" a light voice floats in through the window and both skeletons relax with a whoosh of breath. You remain rigid and eyes wide. You know that voice. You've heard that voice before. How can it be here? With muffled steps across hard wood floors, she glides into the kitchen and the door closes gently behind her. "perfect timing tori. she's just woken up". 

She turns and your eyes meet for a glorious moment and you realize it’s  _her_ , your angel, before she dissolves into a chorus of giggles that ring out like bells. Her fur is as white as you remembered, and the halo that you seemed to remember is replaced by a rich purple hat. She's glorious and shining and right at that moment, snorting in laughter while clutching her knees. She seems to gather herself slightly and wipes at the tears in her eyes. "Well, no one can deny that you boys haven't fed her" she says with mirth still in her voice. You take a moment to realize the pile of dishes beneath you and the sauce on your face slowly dripping into your lap. You move quickly to wipe at your face but she waves her hand as the last of her laughter fades.  “Oh child, don’t trouble yourself. I'm glad you were looked after." She has a smile on her face as large as the warmth in her eyes as she goes to sit down in the chair the tall one vacated. "How are you feeling, my dear? Does your leg still hurt?" You lower your hands with a small nod, eyes following her as she bends down to your ankle. "Could you lean back slightly child? Thank you" she praises as she lifts your ankle onto her lap and rests her hand on you, feather light. 

It's only a moment before the air seems to shrink and become heavy and contracted. It seems to press in on you in a familiar push and before you can react, your ankle alights with a flooding warmth. It blossoms into a torrent of heat, intense but bearable, seeming to radiate from the inside out. It steals away your breath at the relief and the soothing.  _Magic_. That was why you seemed to have healed so quickly. You gasped at the damage that seemed to melt away, predominantly in your ankle, but also the tiny warm pricks all around your body. You could feel your stiff muscles ease and your headache disappear. _Stars, the relief_. Even the constant, basal aches that you had accepted as a fact of being were slowly tensed out and let go. Your back, your jaw, everything seemed to immediately understand where it needed to be and settled back into place. When the magic stopped and the warmth slowly trickled away, you had felt better than you could ever remember. With a few test swivels, you set your ankle back down onto the ground and slowly put weight onto it. A tiny throb, but easily manageable. You stood up from your chair, amazed that magic could be used like this.

Magic could be used like this.

It made you stop. After all this time. It could be used to heal.

Magic could heal. You never knew.

You didn't die. You weren't dead in that beautiful, comfortable place. You looked down at your ankle and remembered all the times you had felt the familiar pushing of the air and it had spiked fear into you.

You didn't know. You didn't have time to react.

It just happened and now your heart was racing and,  _stars,_  were you crying again? You felt the fat tears drip over your cheeks and your nose start to run. "Oh, my child..." you hear the angel say before you were wrapped up in an embrace that was full of comfort and love, just like her magic. It makes you start to sob into her beautiful, purple gown and you know your going to ruin but you can't stop your tears. 

"TORIEL?"

"uh... tori... do we need to..."

"Don't worry boys, I think she's still just adjusting to everything. I'm sure it must be very overwhelming right now". You hear her voice echo through her chest and her hug tightens. You feel so guilty for crying like this, but no one seems to be angry at you and confusion seems to just ball in your chest as frustrated tears keep falling. A warm arm lifts you below your knees and suddenly you're being carried again. You try to keep your face buried in her purple covered chest to avoid the shame of the skeletons seeing you again in tears, but at this point, you suppose it's futile. 

You feel yourself being lead away to the hall you traveled down earlier. "Sans, could you please bring those bags I had with me?" you hear the angel say over her shoulder as you leave the kitchen and are lifted down the hall, past the room you were in, into a reasonable sized bathroom. At least, your pretty sure it's a bathroom. There's a big copper colored tub with little feet steepled beneath and brown pipes climbing up the wall into a wide outlet above. You're quickly placed on a little, wooden stool as the angel starts turning valves and taking bags from the short one at the door. "We should be fine from here Sans. I will let you know if we need anything" she says as he lazily salutes and closes the door. From here, she moves in a flurry of motions while your tears dry on the little stool she placed you on. You're not sure what she's doing, but all things considered, you trust her. When she asks you to lift up your arms, you obey immediately before she explains that she needs you to undress so that she can wash you. It seems odd to you that she is asking your permission first, but you nod and she slowly extracts you out of your long worn, flimsy shirt.

Things become methodical from there, as she lifts you into the tub now full with warm water and cleans your hair and skin with little bars and liquids. The level of care makes you feel odd, but being able to follow her directions and seeing her pleased is like a warm balm to you. She continues this odd, rehearsed dance by pulling at your hair and then asking you to sit very still. After a moment you hear the snip of scissors near your ear and the fall of dark, matted ends. She goes all the way around, just above your shoulders until right by your eyes she cuts all the hair away from your face. It feels different, not having something you'll constantly have to push out of your eyes, as the bangs end just above them. You look over to your angel and smile at your newly expanded field of vision and she smiles back, but it doesn't reach her sadness tinted gaze. She helps you step out of the tub and hands you a towel to dry off with while she looks into her bags with a bashful tone. You don't know why she seems slightly embarrassed, but you dry off your bare form and don't ask as she starts handing you pieces of clothing. It's underthings you haven't seen in ages, so it takes a while put them in the right places and on the right way round. When you do, the angel seems slightly more relaxed and pulls something out of her largest bag. "I had to guess at your measurements, and it has been a while since I've sewn something properly, but I hope it suits you, my dear. It was the only color I had enough of".

It was a dress. A petite thing with long, slender sleeves. It was simple, just a single base color, sewed into a knee high, and it was red. A deep, deep hue. Dark crimson, just like what the skeletons wore. Just like you. You gingerly take the garment from her, feeling the softness of the threads and the straight lines of the stitching. You look back up at her to check that this beautiful thing really is yours. She nods with the pride shining in her eyes and you throw the dress over your head. It falls like water on your skin and the feeling is feather light, yet sturdy. Pulling it into place, the material stretches around you with tightness on your torso and arms, with ruby waves just brushing the tops of your knees. It's more beautiful than anything you have ever owned and before you can stop yourself, you sway your hips just slightly to see the material fan out like petals on a flower. You look back up to your angel and your smile meets hers. You want to say thank you. You hope she knows how grateful you are. You pray your gratitude shows in your eyes as you smile up at her. She gingerly moves towards you, and carefully rolls up your sleeves to just above your elbows. With a sigh, she begins to rub something that smells sharp and fresh onto your forearms, leaving slight little tingles over your skin. She then rolls the sleeves back down, but her hands remain in yours. "My child, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask. We're here to help, each one of us. Whatever happened..." her eyes turn stony and her gaze drops from yours. "Whatever happened... we are going to fix it. It may happen slowly, but we will make this better. I'm so sorry". 

You don't know what to say to this outburst. What is she sorry for? Fix what? Fix you? It's spawned more questioned than answers and they echo in your head until she pulls you into a small hug. Her arms just gently encircling you, hand supporting the back of your head as you stand rigid against her. It's only for a second before she pulls back, raising your tally to two hugs now in such a short space of time. You're slightly overwhelmed, until you look back into her eyes and realize that maybe those hugs weren't for you. The angel is looking back at you with such hope in her eyes and maybe that's why they do it. The contact makes them feel better, so maybe you could help them as they try to help you. 

You swallow your panic and smile back at her, which broadens her own smile and she gently leads you out of the bathroom. Back down the hallway, she leads you into the small study you woke up in. The fire is out, but new blankets seem to be folded onto the arm of the couch. She guides you onto the couch and almost ritualistically begins folding blankets on top of you. A pillow gets slotted behind your head, fluffed and plump, like this has been done thousands of times and blankets are tucked with an unknown choreography. She turns back to the fire and you again feel the tell-tale shrink and push of magic on your skin. You turn to see she's lit the fire again, but feel a heaviness of a hand settle on your forehead. "I think you need another full night's rest child. Magic will help heal the body, but rest and time will help heal the soul. Is it OK if I did as before?". You think you'll be able to sleep on your own, but you nod your head to see her pleased smile. The air settles onto you in a blanket and a warmth spreads through your head, dragging tiredness alongside it. As your eyes seem to close on their on volition, you hear "Sleep well, my dear" before settling into the fabric of unconsciousness once again. 


	6. Adjusting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a while. Life got pretty full on. Here it is

You awoke again sunken into a the cushy embrace of couch, half wrapped in a blanket tied around your torso. Blinking bleary eyes, you're not surprised when you see the earthy tones of the study sharpen into focus this time. Instead, the burnt out fire and mapled trim bring a calm in you as you try to rub the sleep out of your eyes. As the gears in your head creak into alertness, you realise that you're alone this time. The chair in the corner is empty and the air in the room seems sleepy itself, with the sound of the clock dragging time along tick by tock. You glance up to the grand clock you hadn't really taken notice of until now. 8:30. Hopefully morning, as the study doesn't have any windows to gauge night and day. Stars, if you've slept for another 24 hours, who knows what you've missed? Your blanket is thrown to the floor and ankle tested as you rise slowly. No major problems. If anything, you probably feel better than you ever have waking up. As you stretch your back and feel the glorious stretch of your muscles and a pop from the vertebra in your neck, you lower your arms and the hem of your new dress tickles your thighs. You look down to the swathe of red that covers your body and smile again at the beauty of the garment and the kindness of your angel. It's amazing to think she can create something so lovely so quickly, not to mention comfortable as you smooth the fabric.

Although that raises an excellent point, you think as your brows furrow. What had the two skeletons called her? The short one called her Tori, but the tall one used Toriel. Did she prefer different names for different people? You supposed Toriel would be the full one, as it was the longest. Toriel. You sounded it in your head like bells ringing together. It was light and hopeful. It definitely suited her. 

But what about the tall one and short one? The tall one had different names too. Papyrus from both of them, but Pap from the short one as well. Did the short one use different names for everybody? Maybe he liked to make them shorter, kind of like him? Papyrus then, if Toriel's was going to be long as well. PAPYRUS. You shouted it it in your head just like how he would say it. Strong. Bold. Like him you suppose.

But you had only heard one name for the short one. Sans. Ssaaaaannnnssss. The word rolls in your head, forming an up and down like a hill. Sans. It was simple you thought, but not anything like the skeleton it described. That's what both Toriel and Papyrus had called him though. Sans it was.

Toriel, Sans and Papyrus. Three of the people here to help you get better. Get better and what, you weren't sure of though. They had all seemed so concerned about your health, but were you really that ill? Waking up this morning feeling as great as you did, maybe you had been, but right now you felt infinitely better after eating, sleeping and Toriel's magic. So what now? Perhaps that should be your first port-of-call. Finding out just what exactly they needed of you and figuring out what they wanted. You certainly wouldn't mind what ever it was, especially because of how considerate they had been. It also filled your chest with a warm excitement, being able to be useful and make them happy.

With a final smooth of your newly manageable hair, you go to step out the door when the back wall catches your eyes again. You remember it from when you woke up last time, but were a bit busy at the time to really have a decent look. The large bookshelf stretches the entire back wall behind the large desk and stands proud and solid almost a whole row taller than you. The wood is darker than the rest of the room, a deep, deep burgundy where the grain is only slightly visible. The shelves are comfortably full with a number of books you never thought you would witness in your whole life. Spines shot up in a zig-zag of heights and there were some so thick, they extended beyond the width of your palm when you laid it against them. You took a step back and tried to count them. Over a hundred at least. It would take you years to get through all of them! You could feel your soul almost screech in delight at the possibilities in front of you. So many books. So many stories! You quickly looked behind you at the closed door leading out. Perhaps that could wait for just a bit. Just a quick look.

You turned back to the bookcase with light, tapping feet, dancing in place as you run your hands down the rows, overwhelmed with which ones you'll pick first. You slide a few out of their spaces and quickly analyse the first few pages. Scientific words that are about as large as your confusion with them fill the first one. That goes back onto the shelf. A thick history book is next and you carefully place that onto the desk. Finance. Physics. Business. You wouldn't know where to even start with those ones as they go back to their original places. You finally find a novel about being thousands of leagues under the sea. You weren't sure what leagues were, but it looks exciting and goes onto the desk. You find a few more novels about a farm, a dead salesman and a woman named Emma, so they all go onto the desk pile as you continue to sort through the shelves. You come out with a rather substantial pile at the end and you cautiously lift it back over to the sofa. You plop yourself down again with the one about the sea and cautiously eye the clock. Ten minutes. You'll give yourself ten minutes to start the first one, just to get a feel for it, then go find everybody. 

 

 

You tuck your legs up under yourself on the couch and open the cover, reveling in the feeling of a brand new story and enjoying the moment of unknown before diving into the first page. The language was a lot harder than your used to, more varied, with words you hadn't read over and over again. They were new and you wish you knew what they meant, but you were determined to understand. Maybe you would find out later. Regardless, it took quite a while to get through the first few pages, mouthing the longer words together to make understandable sentences. Threads of the story just beginning to unravel and by the time you looked back up at the clock, forty minutes had gone by instead of your self-allotted ten. Oops. You shut the book with a quick snap and move back over to the door. They'll probably be wondering why you've been asleep for so long, would they have sent someone to check up on you? You look down at the book in your hands, unwilling to abandon it in the pile with the others. You should have asked whether you were even allowed to read these before you started. Maybe you could ask now?

You tuck it under your arm and open the door, trying to be as quiet as possible by slowly moving the handle. After you step out of the room and shut the door with a tiny thud and a snick of the handle, you're faced with the same hallway you were carried down twice yesterday. You can see the bathroom just a little further down to your right, just before some stairs at the very end of the hall lead up to somewhere above. Down to the left is the kitchen, where you can see light hitting the floor and noise coming from around the corner. I guess that's your ticket then. As you reach the kitchen, you can see bright beams of light coming through the windows beyond the kitchen, with a roaring blue sky behind them. Daytime. You hadn't slept another twenty-four hours, good. As you peaked around the corner of the door frame, you saw the built frame of the tall one- wait no, Papyrus, standing at the stove again, turning something in front of him. He must have changed while you were asleep, as the shirt he wore was now a crisp white, collar and seams pressed expertly even from where you were standing. He had the same apron on again, which seemed to fill you up with hope at the sizzling in front of him.

Carefully, you walked in and around the kitchen island so as not to disturb him, but he caught sight of you anyway. "HUMAN!". His face lit like a rising sun and mouth widening into a grin that shone with genuine cheerfulness. You didn't jump at the loudness of his voice this time and couldn't help but smile back at him. He seemed truly glad that you were here. "HOW ARE YOU FEELING THIS MORNING? DID YOU SLEEP WELL? DID THE MAGIC HELP?" You nod at his barrage of questions and it seems to please him. He grabs a plate from beside him and slides it onto the island in front of you. "PLEASE HAVE A SEAT HUMAN". You look down at the bare plate in front of you, questioning if he means that it really is for you, but when you glance up, he nods to one of the chairs left around the table from last night. Catching his meaning, you pull one over, trying not to make too much noise and sit in front of the bare plate. He pulls the large flat pan off the stove with a practiced arc and scoops a moderate pile of buttery clumps onto the plate. He returns to slide a slice of bread over the stove top and reaches into a draw alongside him. He looks at you with a scrutinous gaze before gently handing you a fork with a smile. You purse your lips in embarrassment as you take it from him, thankful he's being moderately coy about last night. You sit waiting with the fork in your hand looking up at him as his gaze shifts from you to the hot plate and back. You both seem to be waiting on each other, held in an eye-locked stand off before he seems to crack. "YOU...YOU CAN EAT HUMAN" he says bashfully before you finally start on the bouncy, yellow clumps in front of you, this time with the fork and at a slightly halted pace than last night. 

They taste terrific, just like the pasta he had made you last night, but with a completely different texture that you some how recognize. Half way through the serving he places the toasted bread on the gap in your plate and that gets swept up as well. The bread tastes wonderfully crunchy, and makes the golden lumps all the more tastier.

 

 

Eggs. Eggs you suddenly remember. These are eggs that you're eating. You haven't had them in so long. Stars, they're amazing.

You scoop up the last mouthful and let out a satisfied sigh as you just sit and wallow in contentment. You look up at the tall skeleton in front of you, who's eyes seem to be shining with poorly hidden pride as he takes the dishes away from you. You want to thank him, but you don't know if you can. You open your mouth but words seem trapped in your chest. Your mouth hangs open as you try desperately gather the courage to speak, but you just simply can't and panic starts. Before you try again, Papyrus speaks from over at the sink "YOU'RE WELCOME". He glances over his shoulder with a knowing smile as you shut your mouth and the panic subsides. Bless this skeleton you think as you smile back at him.

He continues to clean your plate as you swing your legs on the chair, watching the skeleton work and you eyes travel to your book sitting on the edge of the island. Your eyes shifted back to Papyrus. Maybe now might be a good time to check if you're actually allowed to read it. You ease out of the chair and gently sweep up the book, quietly padding around the kitchen to the sink to stand next to him. He has his sleeves pushed around his elbows again and you can see the white bones of his forearms dip into the bright cleaning gloves in the sink. You carefully reach over to his sleeve, making sure there is still a generous distance between you two before tugging gently to grab his attention. Thankfully, he just turns his head with a "YES HUMAN?". You slid the book from behind your back, gripping it tightly as you hold it out in front of you, eyes firmly on his for any indication that he might be unhappy. Instead, his eyes dart to the cover and recognition warms them. "THE STUDY LIBRARY! OF COURSE YOU WOULD HAVE SEEN IT. IT'S GOOD THAT SOMEONE IS USING IT AGAIN AT LEAST! SANS AND I DON'T READ AS OFTEN AS WE USED TO". You stand with the out held book as he continues to wash. After a moment, his gaze returns back to you. "DID... DID YOU WANT  _ME_  TO READ TO YOU?" he asks. Worry has crept up into his voice and confusion has replaced nostalgia on his face. You shake your head and tap your chest and he visibly relaxes. "YOU WANT TO READ IT?" An enthusiastic nod and he seems confident again. "OF COURSE HUMAN! THE BOOKS ARE THERE TO BE READ! READ WHATEVER YOU LIKE!" Joy blossoms in your chest and you clutch the book close to you. What ever you liked! It would take years to do so! You jumped from one foot to the other in an unorganized dance of happiness, earning a "NYEH HEH HEH" from the skeleton beside you.

He begins drying and putting away dishes before your realize that while he served you, he himself never ate. You stop and gently go to tug at his elbow again but he turns and inquires "HUMAN?" before you have the chance. You point at the plates in his hands and the pan tucked into a cupboard. "DO YOU WANT TO HELP, HUMAN?". You point at the pan again and then the stove, hoping that he understands that he should make himself some food as well. "DO YOU WANT MORE?" A vigorous shake of your head as you point at him, then the stove, then the plate. His eyes are darting around the kitchen in a flurried confusion before you let out a huff of breath. One last time. You point to his abdomen and then sign a flat plate and move you hand to your mouth in an eating motion. Understanding finally strikes him, and he lets out a dramatic laugh. "DO NOT WORRY HUMAN! UNLIKE MY LAZY BROTHER, I EAT EARLY TO BE READY FOR THE DAY! SPEAKING OF WHICH, HE SHOULD BE UP ALREADY! I'LL GO MAKE SURE HE'S AWAKE, WOULD YOU BE ABLE TO HELP FINISH THE CLEANING?" You nod at the chance to make a use of yourself and he carefully offers you the dry plate in his hands. You take it and slide it into the open cupboard near Papyrus and he beams a smile at you. You smile back, reaching for the gloves he had taken off, and calmly sink into the duty of the few remaining dishes. "THANK YOU HUMAN!" You hear as his loud steps retreat out of the kitchen and calm settles in your stomach alongside the eggs. Doing something productive seems to settle the uncertainty in you. If Papyrus wanted you to clean, then you could clean. You were good at cleaning. You had to be, you thought darkly.

You felt your brow furrow and you push the thought away. No. You weren't there anymore. You were here, cleaning for Papyrus because he was kind, and he smiled, and he fed you eggs the same color as the sun. The anger in your head ricocheted around until you realized you had already finished the dishes and were now standing there with a damp cloth and now damp attitude. Sighing and hanging the cloth over the sink, you stood in the kitchen, glancing through the server's gap and watching the dust float through the air, catching the light that poured in through the restaurant windows. You didn't think you had properly looked at the front of the building, but the circular tables that filled the generous space over hardwood floors stood in eager rows, casting long, angled shadows against one another. The sheer, laced curtains had seen better days, standing at attention in the windows for some time, as had the faded red and white table cloths. The light helped to bring some soul into the room, but without it, it would have looked tired and heavy. Dust settling on pictures frames and the washed out tones of the wooden panels didn't indicate dirtiness per se, just not cleanliness. It had been a while since the front of this building had had some time put into it, and now that you thought about it, you hadn't seen the restaurant actually  _open_  the entire time you'd been here. You decided to walk through the main connecting door, giving it a firm push before it ricocheted back behind you, momentum carrying it back and forth with firm thuds. The sun had warmed the paneling beneath your feet and it was nice to feel the early morning sun without the biting cold that seemed paired with it outside. Now with a much better line of view, you could see all the spots that needed clearing, the dust that needed wiping, and the deep non-use of the room that could do with a mop or two.

 

 

You chewed your lower lip before looking back into the kitchen. Papyrus had asked that you helped finished the cleaning, and while the kitchen had been immaculate, the front had a bit more to be desired. There was no way that this state would be considered 'finished' from prior experience, so perhaps it was a good idea to make a start out front. Maybe there was some supplies somewhere in the kitchen. You turned back into the kitchen, the door making angry back and forth noises at you again and you start looking for something you can use to clean. Your ocean book still sat on the kitchen island and you cast a longing gaze at it before starting your search in the cupboards. You could read it once you were done. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Papyrus had found Sans upstairs in the work room, asleep on the couch in the corner, hat resting over his face. With an angry huff, he looked over the mess he had left last night over the desk and cabinets and gave his brother a shake. When that didn't rouse him, he shook him again, earning a snore from beneath the hat. Papyrus let out a moan of frustration and looked back towards the desk. Judging from the the amount of cigarettes in the ash tray, Sans had been up late looking at the papers on the desk. Photographs, lists and maps all stacked on top of each other and files inside the cabinet were askew and out of order Papyrus assumed. He turned back to his brother with another hard shake. "SANS, WAKE UP!". The quiet snoring continued on, regardless of his volume and Papyrus threw his hands in the air. "LAZY BONES" he grumbled to himself as he set out to clean up Sans' mess, shuffling documents into piles and finding their places in the cabinets beside him. As he suspected, the order he had established was completely gone and he had to painstakingly sort relevant papers and photographs back onto alphabetical order. 

It took a while, but slowly items were gathered and packed away alongside the maps and areas they matched with. Thick folders of details for blue, yellow and purple areas. Papyrus let out a sigh at the tiny red zone and its corresponding thin folder before it was swept up and packed away with the rest. Finally done, and taking much longer than expected, Papyrus turned back to his still snoozing brother. With a final roll of his eyes, he walked back over to the small sofa and grabbing the back of the head rest, slowly tilted it forward until his brother slid off of the couch and landed with a cushioned thump onto the ground. "SANS!" he shouted as the snores came to a hitched stop. There was a long silence until a sleepy "yea bro?" finally echoed from beneath the hat. 

"IT IS MID-MORNING SANS! HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY STILL BE ASLEEP?" 

 

 

"easy pap. just like this"

 

 

"NO NO! DON'T..." A sound half way between a sigh and a snort cuts him off. "SANS, FOR THE LOVE OF..." He quickly takes the hat still lying over his face, revealing one half open eye and a cheeky smile on his brothers face. "IF YOU WANTED MORE SLEEP, YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE TO BED EARLIER, OR AT ALL" he said, gesturing to the couch. His brother shrugged. 

"hey bro, i can  _couch_  that the sofa ain't all that bad." His smile widened at the resulting groan he got and the thump from his hat hitting his chest. "NONE OF THAT SANS! BESIDES, THE HUMAN IS AWAKE AND DOWNSTAIRS. WE SHOULD TALK WITH HER NOW THAT SHE'S MORE COMFORTABLE". Sans let out a heavy sigh and slowly heaved himself up onto his feet. "alright pap. give me a bit and i'll be down" he said, trying to smooth his jacket. A grin fell onto Papyrus' face as he marched from the room, goal complete.

Sans waited until he heard his steps retreat until he flopped back onto the couch, head falling back. It had been a long night, and was going to be an even longer couple a weeks ahead. Trying to make sense of this was going to take some serious digging, most of which he hadn't even started on last night. Sans let out another heavy sigh and could feel his eyes slowly closing again when he heard the heavy baritone of Papyrus' falling feet from downstairs. "SANS?!" he heard him frantically shout up the stairwell, "COULD YOU COME DOWN HERE?! NOW, PLEASE?!" After a heavy pause, Sans grasped at the void and fell backwards into the kitchen. What ever it was, it was still way too early for this shit.

 

* * *

 

It was absolutely too early for this shit. When he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, Papyrus was stuck in the swing door to the restaurant, holding something he couldn't see. There was a mountain of white linen soaking in the sink, along with every single table cloth in the building hanging from every single available surface in the kitchen, making it look very Chinese laundry-esque. He slowly moved through the draped cloth until he stood beside Papyrus in the doorway, finally being able to see that the thing he was holding was the little red dress that Toriel had made. The owner of said dress was at that moment crouched over the floor near the entrance to the restaurant, stripped down to her underthings and scrubbing at the ingrained dirt of the floor. A wet cloth was beside her that she had used to wipe down the tables and surfaces where dust has settled. She tilted her head up and smiled in greeting at him before returning her concentration to the floor, causing Sans to quickly find somewhere - anywhere - else to look at other than the semi naked human in their restaurant. He could see Papyrus was in the same predicament, seeming to find the walls and roof of the building extremely interesting while desperately grasping the dress in his outstretched hands. "HUMAN... DON'T YOU THINK IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO PUT SOME CLOTHES BACK ON?" Out of the corner of his eye, Sans could see the confused and annoyed look that crossed the humans face. She slowly shock her head, pointing to the floor she was scrubbing and then her now dirtied hands. Papyrus' face was a mixture of discomfort and uncertainty before Sans decided to throw out a lifeline. "i think she just didn't want to get it dirty pap. considering the thorough job she's doing, i don't blame her". Her face lit up with the praise and renewed her vigorous scrubbing as Sans gently took the dress from Papyrus' grasp. "but we were hoping that we could have just a quick chat with ya kid, preferably clothed, just for a little while. then you can go back to the cleaning if you like".

He held out the dress, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor as she stood up and seemed to wipe her hands on her bare legs. She crossed the room with little shame and softly took the garment from him, careful not to smudge any grime onto it as she threw it over her head. Now clothed, Sans looked back up at her, seeing her genuine smile in the full light of the morning, a smudge of dirt near her temple. "awesome kid. why don't you go wash your hands in the bathroom first? we'll meet you in the study". A nod and she slides past with a lightness in her step and around Papyrus who still has his gaze averted with a blush high on his cheekbones. As she walks out of the kitchen, both brothers let out a breath of relief and relax slightly in unhindered morning sun. "hey pap?" Sans starts, "how long have the curtains been down?" 

"SHE'S SOAKING THEM IN THE SINK I THINK. A LITTLE WHILE?"

 

 

"because we can see straight through the windows now, meaning people outside can see straight in. how long was she out here?" Papyrus goes rigid and his eyes widen in panic and Sans lets out a tired sigh. "what's done is done pap. let's just get her cleaned up, then we can sort this out". Sans moves to walk past his brother and Papyrus lets out a "WHEN I ASKED HER TO HELP FINISH CLEANING, I DIDN'T MEAN...". Sans can hear the shame in his voice. "i know papy, i know. it's ok". He gives his brother a pat on the shoulder as he passes him, relieved to see a weak smile form. Before he exits the kitchen, he eyes the empty coffee pot and beelines to that first. This is gonna be a long day. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

You had washed your hands and were now sitting on your couch with the book you had swiped from the kitchen island before you forgot it. The skeleton brothers were taking a while, so you were taking every advantage to slowly progress through the pages, despite the fact that the longer words you tried sounding out in your head were mismatched garbles of syllables. Maybe you could ask one of the brothers for help? Maybe Papyrus, as he seemed slightly more... approachable, and he was already OK with your reading. 

You hear the handle turn and catch the door move from the corner of your eye as the brothers enter. Sans looks as tired as he did before, eyes listless and shadows pitted on his cheek bones, but the same lazy smile stitched on his face. He has a steaming porcelain mug that he takes with him over to the desk where he sits behind as Papyrus comes in, looking uncomfortable. He darts his eyes quickly over to you and offers a smile as he sits down in the padded one-seater in the corner. He can't seem to sit still and fidgets in his seat, hands wrapping over each other again and again. You don't understand why he's so nervous and you look back and forth between them, trying to find an answer.

"so..." Sans begins before the silence takes a firm grasp of all of you. "kid, we'd like to ask you a few questions. just to... get to know you better". His hands spread open in front of him as he speaks. "if it's ok with you, could we ask you a few things?" He closes his hands in front of himself again and you begin to feel uneasy. You mark your book and slide it off your lap to beside you, looking back at him your own hands clasped now. You feel like you should maybe be guarding your face as your eyes narrow. "ok, i guess first things first, what's your name kid? what should we call you?" Your eyes widen again as you open and close your mouth. You cast a furtive gaze over to Papyrus, then back to Sans as the panic returns. You move to start trying to spell in the air before Papyrus gets up and walks over to the desk. He reaches inside the first draw before handing you a large wad of paper and a pen. Looking at the pen, you don't catch the glance shared by the two skeletons. 

It's been a while since you last wrote something, so you clumsily scrawl across the page.

 

 

_Which one?_

The brothers share another glance. "your... given one" Sans says slowly, as if it will help you understand. You point to your words again, slowly as well. "...YOUR FIRST NAME HUMAN" Papyrus clarifies. 

First name. You can do that. 

_Frisk_

Papyrus seem happy once you turn the paper around. "FRISK! THAT'S A WONDERFUL NAME HUMAN" You smile thankfully over at Papyrus as he smiles back. "can i ask what were your other ones, frisk?" Sans asks gently, drawing your gaze back to him. You frown as you carve four lines into the pad, lip curling at the rigid slashes. 

_VII_

Sans' eyes seem to deepen into bottomless pits, bringing a frosty atmosphere to the room. Papyrus shuffles in his seat again, hands starting their back and forth over each other again. "HOW...HOW DID YOU GET THE SECOND ONE FRISK?" he asks as if it physically pains him. Your jaw clenches shut as hard as your hands that warp the wad of paper beneath them. 

 

Seven. There were seven of you.

 

You try stop the pricks of tears at your eyes before you hear Sans start "kid... it's ok... you don't have to tell us if you don't want to". You shook your head in a hard no. You didn't understand. He didn't understand. Of course you did. You had to. You had to tell them. You had nothing else to give them. You owed them so much. Every time you tried to speak your throat closed up and panic pooled in your torso. You had to tell them. Write something. Anything. You felt a bony hand slide over your own clenched one and realized Papyrus had moved to sit beside you on your couch. You look up at him and he gently tilts your head so that it leaned on his shoulder. He gently pats you with the palm of his hand. "THERE THERE HUMAN" he comforts, you noticing that he still calls you 'human'. "PERHAPS WE CAN TRY SOMETHING DIFFERENT SANS?". He looks over at his brother, who gives a reassuring nod. Papyrus takes the warped paper from your hands and smooths it out over his own lap. "HOW ABOUT... WE BOTH DRAW SOMETHING?". He splits the wad of paper and shuffles half of it back onto your lap. He pulls a pen from his front pocket and smiles down at your quirked expression. "NOW THEN, LET'S BOTH DRAW WHAT HOME LOOKS LIKE!"

  

 

 

* * *

 

It was a few hours later, more so measured by the dark rings the coffee left rather than the clock, and the three of them were sitting back around the table in the kitchen. Frisk was back out in the front again, scrubbing the same damn spot near the door because regardless of what they'd said, she wouldn't take no for an answer. It was getting darker now, so as long as the lights stayed off out front, it was relatively safe for her to be out there in the shadows. At least they had been able to talk her into wearing one of Papyrus' old shirts instead of stripping down half naked again. She had the cuffs rolled up halfway up her forearm and the hem hung well past her hips as she knelt over the well worn floor. She must've found a rubber band at some point, as she had gathered up what she could of her hair, onto the back of her head. The look on her face as she scrubbed was determined, but calm, the expression worn by people who have to keep their hands busy. Frantic outside hoped to bring a tranquil inside, thought Sans, laughing at his inverse nature by comparison. He had his feet resting on the seat beside him, leaning back in his chair far more than he should have been. Papyrus was sitting left of him, shuffling folded pages with Tori across from him, sewing in hand with a needle running back and forth, over and over. Busy hands all around. 

"OK boys." Toriel said in a subdued murmur, perhaps hoping that the kid wouldn't overhear the fact they were talking about her. "What's happened since I was last here? How are we doing? How is she doing?".

"difficultly, on both counts, i guess tor" Sans said, leaning forward in his chair so that it sat flush with the ground again. "we have her name at least and maybe a few details, but we're learning more from what she does rather than what she tells us". Like her getting half undressed with little to no qualms about it, he thought.

"WHICH ISN'T MUCH, CONSIDERING SHE CAN'T TALK" Papyrus tried with as low voice as he could. Toriel's eyes darted to the front where Frisk was cleaning, then back. "Can't? Or won't?"

"can't I think. she's tried to a few times, so she might have been able to talk once, but now she just can't seem to get it out. like something's stopping her." Papyrus leaned forward.

"I DON'T THINK IT'S TO DO WITH TRUST. SHE WOULD IF SHE COULD I THINK. IT'S JUST THAT... SHE DOES EVERYTHING WE ASK HER AND EVEN THINGS WE DON'T. WITHOUT QUESTION." His eyes lock guiltily through the kitchen door and the back and forth of a scrubbing brush fills the air. "IT'S..." Papyrus settles back in his chair with a sigh. "It's OK Papyrus. We both know you would have never asked this of her. After the trauma she's been through, I think she may have some what of a warped sense of gratitude. I think she's just... looking for a purpose" Toriel says and her sewing stills as an uncomfortable silence is pushed between them with every grate of the brush outside.

"What was her name?" Toriel starts again, bringing a gentleness back into the air between them.

"frisk. she said she had two names, but i think she prefers frisk."

"Two? Then what was her second one?" The two brothers shared a weighted glance before Papyrus shuffled a single paper out of the stack he held. He slid it over the table towards Toriel and she grimaced at the single symbol on it. "Sans, does this mean what we think it does?". Sans nods and slides a newspaper clipping alongside the sheet of paper.

"confirms it. seven disappearances, and she was the last one taken." Toriel's eyes skim over the article and settle on the picture of the small ten year old in the corner, crooked smile and appled cheeks staring back. "Stars. Who could have done this?" she says, hurt apparent in her voice. Papyrus casts his eyes down and the pupils in Sans' disappear completely.

"we'll find out tori. we don't have much but... we'll find out." The shadows over his face darken as he pauses, making the curves of his skull look severe in the low light. Toriel's brow pinches with worry. She hates it when he gets like this. She sees him trying to hide it, but she knows there something a lot deeper, a lot more severe about Sans. "Not at the expense of yourself. How long did you sleep last night?". His pupils flicker back in surprise and he has the sense to at least act bashful. "Don't lie", Toriel says, a stern humor in her voice. "I know how you can get with trails like this Sans. Just promise me you'll at least try to get a healthy amount of sleep tonight?". Sans let out a sigh of defeat and his smile lifted back up.

"sure tori. wouldn't  _dream_  of lettin' you down". The resulting groan from Papyrus and concealed giggle from Toriel seemed to lift some of the heaviness that had gathered around them and Toriel resumed the sewing in her lap. "In the meantime, I suppose we can try keep her busy if that's what she wants, but she has to be comfortable. Papyrus I'm sure you can take care of that. I'll continue making things for her to wear and gather anything else she might need. Sans, could you keep looking into exactly who she is and what happened? Between the two of us we might be able to figure out arrangements long term. We can't just keep her locked in here, away from prying eyes." Both brothers nod, determination sparking in their eyes. "Alright then," she says with a final huff of breath. "Let's get started, shall we?"


	7. Settled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again everyone!
> 
> I'm sorry for the huge spans of time between chapters. I've realized that they tend to be getting longer, and I'm still settling into writing. Thank you for all your patience. Your comments really keep me going and I'm grateful for any attention this story gets. Now that I've concreted the story line and pathways it will take, things will become more succinct. 
> 
> This chapters here flushes out a few details before the plot hits again. Enjoy.

Things settled into a rhythm. Every morning you would wake up and have breakfast with Papyrus. He would greet you with a sunny disposition and some form of eggs and toast. No matter how early you seemed to rise, he was usually awake ahead of you, pan in hand and the kitchen warmed from the heat of the stove. Sometimes if you caught him early enough, air would be as crisp as the lines on his shirts, but there he would be, a constant start to the routine that was slowly establishing itself. He seemed to take it very seriously too, as the one time you had stayed up late reading by the light of the fire, you woke up to a plate of eggs near your face held by a frustrated skeleton. From that point you tried to go to sleep on time.

After breakfast, you cleaned. In the beginning, Papyrus tried to persuade you not too, saying that you could read, or draw, or do anything else you wanted but you couldn't leave the front of the building halfway done like that. After a couple of days, he relented, cleaning and hanging the curtains back up himself, but making you promise to keep them drawn. It was a decent compromise and you spent the next few days concentrating on the tables, seats, walls and floors. It felt good to be doing something. Not just for you, but for Papyrus and Sans. It was good to be actively achieving something. As the hours passed, the grime lifted and the tiredness of the building seeped away. The light wasn't what brought life to the building now, it had an inherent soul of its own and the fact that you were the one doing this rooted a sense of pride in your chest. 

After the morning cleaning, Papyrus would always make sure you stopped for lunch. Without him you would have worked directly through midday, but he always tempted you with a small sandwich or fruit, both of which were made up of more colors than you could possible imagine. You would go back to your job cleaning, then stop mid-afternoon. You could work for longer, but Papyrus seemed to get more uncomfortable the later you worked, urging you to take a break and one time lifting you from out the front.

So you turned to reading. It was almost a luxury, being able to openly read during the day and with so many hours open to you, your skill was improving and you were chewing through books. Complex words still tripped you up, but you were progressing through novels at a much quicker pace. You would sit down to start reading, only to be called by Papyrus for dinner sometime later, realizing hours had passed. Most of the time, you took your book along to dinner and continued to read while you ate, unable to put it down. Papyrus didn't seem to mind. If anything, he was glad to see you doing something other than working and it always helped to have him there at the table when you came across a word you were uncertain with. 

Having dinner with Papyrus was always good and not just because the food he cooked was astounding. The pastas you were exposed to moved from long ropes to twirls, ribbons and tubes. Even little packages stuffed with more flavors. There was rice and vegetables and different meats that you were slowly able to tell apart from each other with every passing meal. Not only that, the passion he cooked with was infectious and you found yourself listening to all the details of how he cooked. Sauté to braising, those terms went over your head, but the ingredients he used became a game the two of you played. Each new item was met with Papyrus leaning over the table, eyes wide with barely contained anticipation as you would take that first bite. Truthfully, you didn't dislike anything he gave you. The vegetables tasted like the crispness in the air and slowly, you were getting used to feeling full after a meal. Not just the feeling of not being hungry. Dinner had become your favorite time of day when you could sit down and truly enjoy something without that small amount of guilt peppering the back of your mind.

Most of the time it was just you and Papyrus. Very occasionally Sans would pop in just before or during the meal and have to be near dragged into a chair by his brother. But each meal you always saw Papyrus make three servings and one would go wrapped in the fridge for later when ever Sans decided to eat. Because of the different schedules you kept, or perhaps the odd one he kept, you didn't see much of Sans. Mornings you assumed he slept, from the amount of grumbling Papyrus did about it, and the rest of the time he spent unseen, up the stairs at the end of the hall. Or out. You didn't know where. One morning you had just shuffled into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from your eyes when you saw him leaning into the fridge, grabbing the meal Papyrus had made the night before. Guiltily, he stood up, plate in hand with a sheepish grin on his face. "how you doin' kid?" he had asked with small grin and you had sleepily nodded back. "good, good" he replied, letting the awkwardness in the air settle down around the two of you. It looked like he hadn't even slept yet, shadows around his skull and the creases in his suit seemed to be wearing him, not the other way around. He had let out a sigh and went to leave, patting your shoulder as he brushed passed. "we can talk later kid" and he was gone, down the hallway and up the stairs with dragging feet and hunched shoulders. Essentially, this was how most of your meetings went with him, never really seeking him out either due to your self imposed cleaning.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a big job on your own, but over the course of a few days, the floors were rewaxed and striking with a deep umber, seats lifted, metal shined anew and it looked as if the room had been imbibed with life itself. The wood of the chairs had also been repaired and varnished, scuffs in the wood like tiny scars disappearing after a few coats. The grit had been fished out of the floor and the walls were completely free of all dust. Papyrus had found some fresh light bulbs and they were screwed in to replace the blown ones. They beamed almost as much as the pride inside of you, standing there with a stupid grin on your face you knew. A collection of days of hard work and it was finally done. You had opened the windows slightly to let a breeze clear out the smell of cleaning products and the stark white curtains were waving in the wind. You let out a sigh that felt like the entire contents of your lungs and felt much better. You go to wipe your hands on your shorts but stop just before. Toriel had brought more clothes with her the last time she had come to visit; hence you now owned three shirts, a new pair of under things, socks and two pairs of trousers that hung a little bit short, just above your ankles. You didn't mind, in fact the height had been helpful so as to not drag them through the soaking floor these past few days. You appreciated all the work Toriel had done for you, even by having the forethought to adding a draw string around your waist so that the pants would actually stay hitched on your bony hips. Each item was precious to you, so you were still apprehensive about smearing dirt over your new gifts. You were even more reluctant to give them up when Papyrus had asked for washing, wearing your new dress for days until Papyrus near demanded that it was simply too filthy to be worn and if you would not let him clean it, he would teach you himself. It made you happy, the fact you were learning more and more ways to take care of yourself. Washing clothes, bathing and eating whole meals were once foreign, but now were routine. And so, standing there, the beginnings of independence running through you, you were determined to keep going. The restaurant was done, but now you turned inwards, wondering what to do next.  You wandered aimlessly back through Papyrus’ spotless kitchen, at a loss on how to make use of yourself. Your feet took you back to the study, where your piles of dusty books stood like guardians to your cave. Inspiration bolted through you rolled up your sleeves once more.

You had just started dusting the surfaces of the study when an excited Papyrus called from down the hall. He rounded the corner into the study with an object in his arms, slightly smaller than a suitcase. "HUMAN! FRISK! I HAVE PROCURED SOMETHING THAT MAY BE OF USE TO YOU!" His arms strained as he lifted the object up onto the desk surface with a thud. "OR AT LEAST MORE USE TO YOU THAN SANS AND I. IT IS RARELY, IF EVER, TURNED ON UPSTAIRS THESE DAYS." He began organizing something at the back of the machine, facing the dials and knobs on its front towards you. You gingerly moved towards it, fingertips gracing its cool surface and feeling the dials move under your hands. Something about the machine seemed... familiar. You looked over to Papyrus, questions in your eyes as he finished its set up. "TURN IT ON HUMAN!" he says with an undisguised twinkle in his eyes.

You flip the switch he indicates and with a jumped murmur, the machine is alight with noise. Light and sound erupts from the sides as you jump back in shock and Papyrus quickly turned the largest knob. The rough, grating noise punching through the air dimmed and the room seemed to relax with a sigh. 

Papyrus looked at you in concern, but a giggle bubbled up from your throat and the tension broke. You stepped back up to the machine again, turning the same knob Papyrus had, feeling the sound push out at you, up and down with each turn of the knob. You felt the smile grow on your face and looked back up to Papyrus. "HERE, LET'S SEE IF WE CAN FIND SOMETHING OTHER THAN STATIC!" He gripped another dial on the other side of the machine and started winding, shooting a little arrow down the line of numbers. The sound changes too, the uncoordinated crackles fading in and out. A man's voice becomes audible through the muffle but Papyrus keeps winding and it flicks into crackles again. A few more turns and a burst of notes emerge from the machine and Papyrus seems content. "NOW YOU CAN LISTEN TO SOME MUSIC DURING THE DAY, IF YOU'D LIKE".

The song seemed to take flight in the air, a beautiful arrangement of melodic highs and deep base, working together to weave currents from the machine in front of you. You realized your mouth had been hanging open in a wide smile but truthfully didn't care in that moment. Papyrus looked at you with something akin to pride shining in his eyes and you felt as though your chest had just expanded. It had been a few days and Papyrus had been helping you clean, making meals for you and generally looking after you daily. Since the first time you had been overwhelmed, he had been careful of your space and how you reacted to touches. He had never asked why you hadn't spoken yet, or if you ever would. Slowly, ever so slowly you were beginning to feel as though you could relax around him. He was kind and compassionate and you weren't completely used to that yet, but you knew that was OK. As emotion overtook you, you stepped forward to meet him, arms around his narrowed waist and head hitting his chest. The hug felt awkward to you at first as you could feel him stiffen for just a moment, but he relaxed and you could feel him gently pat the top of your head. "YOU'RE WELCOME HUMAN." he said warmly, resting on hand on your shoulder.

You waited a few more seconds before unwrapping your arms and gracefully stepping back. If Papyrus had seemed pleased before, he was outright glowing now. His eyes danced as the music continued to play from the machine. He cast a furtive glace to the machine then back to you, hope in his expression. "HUMAN! WOULD YOU LIKE TO LEARN HOW TO DANCE?"

Your eyebrows rose in shock, but he held his two hands out, hoping for you to take them. You chewed your lip, worry spiking through you, but Papyrus interjected. "THE RADIO WON'T BE AS GOOD AS THE DANCE HALLS, BUT WE CAN STILL GIVE IT A TRY!" Radio! You remembered now. You glanced back over at the radio still purring on the desk, then back to an optimistic Papyrus. He had treated you well, and maybe you could give him a chance and trust him.

You gently placed your two hands on his and for just a second, you swore stars appeared in his eyes. Only for a second though, as mischief replaced it and his hands tightened over yours. You didn't have time for your breath to leave you as he swept you up in a spin, his left hand tightening on your right and his other arm wrapping under your armpit around to the center of your back. He whirled you around, lifting your feet from the floor in a tilted arc and you couldn't stop the elated shriek that erupted from you. He slowed his turns and set your feet back on the floor, only to almost carry you across the room, feet gliding in time to the music. You were a leaf in the wind, feet scrambling to keep up his but you couldn't stop your laughter. The first laugh in so long, dragged out of you like your clumsy feet across the floor. Your movement were disjointed and nowhere near in time to the music, but Papyrus stepped to the arrhythmic beat you made, turning and dancing with you, caught up in the nonsense back and forth you had created. You could feel your heart in your chest and light in your head as Papyrus' hand left your back while his other wound over your head. Gripping tightly, he turned you around with a quick motion and the room blurred together. You felt dizzy but you jerked to a stop facing the open room. The music had finished and you and Papyrus were connected only by one hand now. Your checks felt flush and your breath rushed in and out of you. You were tired, but alive. Every nerve ending jumped and every breath had purpose. You felt like you never had before and started laughing, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. Papyrus' own "NYEH HEH HEH" followed yours.

Another man's voice had replaced the music now and you looked back to the radio feeling a little dejected. "DON'T WORRY HUMAN, ANOTHER WILL COME ON IN JUST A SECOND... IF YOU'D LIKE TO TRY AGAIN?" You looked to Papyrus' face and to where you were joined by each other’s hands and give an enthusiastic nod. Whatever it was that made your breath run and your heart jump, you would very much like to do it again. A new song started, but this one was slower than the last one. Where the last one was air pushing out at you, forcing your feet to move, this one came like water and you could feel your feet want to glide. Papyrus could feel the change in tone too, and he rearranged you so that you were both back in position with his hand at the center of your back. "A SLOWER ONE WILL BE EASIER TO SHOW YOU THE STEPS" he said and you glanced down at your two sets of feet. "I'LL LEAD, SO WHEN I GO FORWARD WITH ONE FOOT, YOU GO BACK WITH THE OTHER". He moved one foot slowly forward, forcing you to take a step backward. "JUST LIKE THAT, AND THEN AGAIN WITH THE NEXT ONE". His other foot moved and you pre-emptively moved your own backward to make room for his. "SEE? JUST LIKE THAT. NOW WE DO THAT OVER AND OVER IN TIME TO THE MUSIC" he grinned. His feet lifted again you started your movement back when he kept going, one foot after the other. The speed was faster, but you watched as his foot moved and were able to react with your own back and forth. "TRY KEEPING YOUR WEIGHT ON THE FRONT OF YOUR FEET FRISK! IT'LL MAKE YOUR STEPS LIGHTER!" Lighter? You shifted your weight but not in time to move with Papyrus and stumbled. He caught your weight and continued on with the steps before you could panic about his reaction to your mistake. He slowed down and once your feet were back under you, you resumed the steps, bouncing now with the flow of the song. You focused once again, but the movements felt rigid to you and you're sure Papyrus noticed as well, but slowly you made your way around the room, concentrating on the feet below you. "YOU'LL HAVE TO LEARN TO DO THIS WITHOUT LOOKING AT YOUR FEET HUMAN!" Your gaze shifted up but without the direct line of sight you tripped again. "IT'S OK HUMAN!" Papyrus said when tears sprang to your eyes. "IT TAKES A LONG TIME TO LEARN HOW TO DANCE. WE CAN KEEP PRACTICING".

You nodded and tried again, one foot after another, weight on your toes and feet tracing the arcs on the floor. When the song finished, you and Papyrus had been able to go a solid minute without you tripping or stumbling. "THAT WAS GOOD FOR YOUR FIRST TIME HUMAN! IT TAKES LOTS OF PRACTICE TO LEARN HOW TO DANCE WELL. MAYBE WE CAN TRY AGAIN TOMORROW..." He left the question open with trepidation on his face. You were certain that you were terrible at the moment, but if Papyrus said you could learn to dance, you would. Determination steeled in your chest and you sent him a reassured smile and nodded. Papyrus erupted in joy, laughing as he swept you up again in a twirl and you didn't try stopping your own laughter this time. You may not know anything about dancing yet, but for the first time in so long, you were learning about trust.

 

* * *

 

This was Sans' third cigarette in almost as many hours and it was his third time in a row coming home after the sun rose. He tried to muster up the hate he knew he had for the gigantic flaming time piece, but he was just so tired. Exhausted was probably a better word, but right now he didn't care.

His feet practically dragged over the threshold to the restaurant, scuffing on the new doormat as he entered. Huh. New. He drew his eyes up from the floor and silently balked at the stark difference in the entire front of the restaurant. It was like a breath of fresh air had hit the place, multiple times in fact. A tornado of fresh air.

The floors shined with wax, the wood boasted a bright new finish and everything was primed and fresh. Not a corner of non-use was present, even the smell was fresher. The whole place had had a complete upturn of life brought back into it in the few days he had been out. Or asleep. Stars above, was this what Pap and Frisk had been up to this whole time? He slowly walked through the restaurant, feeling slightly remorse about having his dirty shoes over the pristine floor and into the back kitchen. He was just about to debate whether he should eat something when a quiet shriek echoed from behind the door leading out back.

Confusion pinned his eyes straight to the door and he felt his brows draw down. The hell was going on back there? His mind sluggishly focused on the sounds slipping around the door before he sighed and went to investigate. With the door open now, he could hear the radio clearly from the study, followed by Papyrus' voice over shuffling feet. He reached the partially opened door but stopped just at the threshold.

There you both were. You and Papyrus held in a loose embrace as he led you around the room, dancing one step after another. He could see his brothers' arms resting high on your back, ever the gentleman without question, as you stiffly tried to follow. There was a quirk to your lip and creases by your eyes as you mouthed along to the tempo of the song, watching your own feet shifting over the floor. Concentration had wrinkled your brow, but joy had softened the rest of your face, leading to the delicate smile he didn't think you knew was there. Sans didn't think he had seen you like this before. There was no hidden darkness to your gaze. No trepidation in your movements as you tried to grasp the flow of the steps. Your movements were stiff and slightly heavy, but your soul seemed light. He could see the rosy red of your soul just starting to shine through like the flush appearing on your cheeks. It was amazing. Beautiful even. But he could help the sinking feeling settling under his ribs.

He felt like a lecher from out here in the hallway. Watching friends simply enjoy the act of dancing and learning. Something he wouldn't be a part of. It hadn't angered him when Toriel asked Papyrus to look after you, it had been the logical choice. He was boisterous but kind, genuine and empathetic. It was only natural the two of you had grown to be friendly after spending time together. He was what you needed to help recuperate and Sans was much better suited for gathering information. Finding out just who you were so he could plan where for you to go. It was even obvious in the few interactions he had had with you when you both happened to stumble into the kitchen in the early mornings. Your greetings were reserved when he was around and you became more guarded when dared to pry into your past. At the few dinners he had been present for, Papyrus seemed to help melt the tension between the two of you. It hadn't bothered him then, he knew he was helping you in his own ways, but why did it bother him now? He probably knew more about you now than you could remember yourself, slowly putting the pieces of your history together. It had been a lot of hard work and digging; maybe it was the feeling of being unappreciated? But the fact it couldn't be him in there turned over a bloated feeling under his ribs. Papyrus grabbed at your weight as you stumbled again, but he guided you back into step with the music as Sans turned away. He didn't know if he should or could be watching this, but he knew that this moment wasn't his. 

 

* * *

 

It was late afternoon, days after your initial, thrown-together dance lesson and the clock in the study had its hands pointing at 5:42. You hadn't heard Papyrus approach until a cautionary "FRISK?" came from the doorway and pulled you back up out of your story. He stood leaning around into the study with a tool in hand, spatula you remembered. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO HELP MAKE DINNER?" Smiling, you marked your page and followed him out into the kitchen, novel in tow. Yesterday he had taught you how to properly cut vegetables and how to arrange things on a plate and he seemed delighted that you had taken some zeal to the exercise. The whole experience was new and exciting to you, being able to control or at least influence the things you ate. He even let you experiment at times, mixing things together or adding something if you liked but it never turned out as good as what Papyrus managed to create. Still, you appreciated being included.

You met him in the kitchen and placed your book on the table so that it wouldn't get in the way. Papyrus, already working on something at the stove, proceeded to wave you over to the sink where four, dirty lumps sat in the bottom. "WE'RE MAKING MASHED POTATOES HUMAN! COULD YOU WASH THEM FIRST, THEN I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO PEEL THEM!" Potatoes. Another word you would have to write down on your list. You washed them, and then carefully watched as Papyrus ran a knife just under the surface, lifting just the thin layer of skin away from solid flesh. "CAREFULLY AND SLOW FRISK. IT'S EASY TO CUT YOURSELF IF YOU RUSH OR PRESS TOO HARD. SLOWLY AND GENTLY". You tried as he said, but ended up with much less uniform potatoes with large chunks of skin compared to his. Regardless, in they went to the pot as you boiled, drained and mixed them for the final plate. You went to grab the plates for both you and him, but stopped for a moment. Placing two ready on the counter, you tugged at Papyrus' sleeve and held out a third in front of you. He looked at you questioningly before realizing. "SANS?" You nodded. "I'M NOT SURE IF HE'LL BE HERE ON TIME BUT I'VE MADE HIM SOME ANYWAY. PUT IT ON THE COUNTER". On the counter it went as Papyrus dished up a brown sauced meat along with some green vegetables. Broccoli you thought? You could then shakily scoop large spoons of your potatoes and lifted the meals over to the table.

Just before you debated lifting the third plate over, Sans made the decision for you, slowly appearing around the door frame and sleepily heading towards the fridge. He looked better than when you had seen him this morning, weighed down by exhaustion and eyes heavy beneath the hat he was trying to hide in. He hadn't even noticed you there in the study as he had dragged himself through the back hallway and you had heard the thudding falls of his feet up the stairs. Now, it looked like he had changed clothes, a crisp white shirt tucked into ironed charcoal pants. His posture wasn't exhausted but lethargic, obviously waking up from where ever he slept upstairs just a short while ago. You didn't know what he did all day, or night more accurately, but you only really saw him tired, walking through the restaurant, getting his food before disappearing upstairs.

His gaze met yours and you gave him a quick wave. "mornin' kid" he mumbles and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. Morning indeed. You picked up the final plate and took it over to the table as Papyrus spoke. "SANS! JOINING US FOR DINNER I SEE!"

"course bro. couldn't miss another one of your amazing dinners" You smiled and could almost hear Papyrus ruffle with pride. They did this dance every time. Sans would miss a few dinners, but Papyrus would save something for him anyway. Eventually when he did come on time to eat, Papyrus would act angry, but you could see that he really was happy to see his brother. Sans would smooth things over with how great his cooking was, or how great Papyrus was in general, but you know Sans really regretted missing all those meals. Whatever kept him out; it had to be important, as they would eat dinner and then repeat this cycle again and again.

Papyrus laid the cutlery down as you took your seat next to your book and propped it open. REGARDLESS, IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU WERE PUNCTUAL". Sans finished rummaging in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of ketchup and made his way over. You didn't know how he drank that stuff. You had tried it and could only handle a small amount before wincing at the salt. He placed the bottle on the table after taking a preliminary swig. "try my best pap, try my best". He grabbed a mouthful of the dinner and you watched it disappears in his mouth as he eats it. You'd have to ask how that worked with the two of them. Food just vanishing inside their heads.

You started on your own dinner, eyes darting back to your open book as you ate. You had a moment of reading before Sans spoke again. "weren't you reading something different yesterday kid?" You nodded without moving your eyes from the page. You had already finished the story of Captain Nemo and his beautiful ship under the sea. Now you had started on the one called Animal Farm, which seemed silly, as didn't all farms have animals? The words seemed simple, but you had the feeling that the story itself wasn't going to be. At least so far. "FRISK HAS BEEN READING ALMOST EVER CHANCE SHE GETS BROTHER. WE WILL NEED TO RESTOCK THE STUDY AT THIS RATE!" Papyrus quipped and a jolt of pleasure ran through you. You couldn't fathom the amount you had now, let alone more! You would have so many more new words to learn, you would run out of paper for you list!

Speaking of which, your eyes ran over a word and your brain halted at its meaning. You looked over to Papyrus and tapped his arm before turning the book towards him, sure he could help. Food paused at his mouth as you pointed to the word on the page and his eyes ran over it two, three times. His brows lowered and he seemed to be mouthing the word ever so minutely. "REBEL...REBEL-LION. YES?" He said, more question than answer. You pointed again, confusion on your face. What did it mean? He looked back down and you thought you noticed sweat just start to bead on his skull. "YOU WANT ITS MEANING?" You nodded and could see panic ever so slightly appear in his features. Silence drew out for just a moment and Papyrus' eyes darted over to Sans, then to you, then back to the book. He was up so suddenly you jolted in your seat. "I... I WILL GET YOUR LIST FOR YOU HUMAN!" he stuttered and then walked out of the kitchen and down the hall.

It was a few silent moments before the confusion dissipated in your brain and you dejectedly pulled the book back towards you. He had left so suddenly. Was something wrong? Had you done something? You looked back at the word feeling your brows draw together. "rebellion" Your head lurched up to Sans as he sat, still eating. "rebellion. it's when people don't like the person in charge or what they're doing, so they try to change things or get rid of them." He gently took the book from your hand and started skimming, pupils racing over the words. "here," he says quietly, lying the book down towards you so you can see the words he points to. "what she's asking is if there will be sugar once the farmers are gone and the animals are in charge. after they rebel." You sat absorbing the meaning, looking back at his relaxed face in the low light.

Rebellion. It came a lot more confidently from Sans, not the stop-and-go syllables like Papyrus had pronounced it with. You nodded lightly and gently reached for the book, fingertips just carefully gracing his. He quickly pulled his hand back and concentrated back on his plate, seemingly lost in thought. "papyrus..." he started before letting out a great sigh. "papyrus has always struggled when it comes to reading" he said quietly. "he'll can manage day to day, it just takes him a bit longer to get through big paragraphs or new words. he's not stupid though, he has an amazing grasp on puzzles and he's great at solving problems. it’s just always taken him a bit to understand when it's on paper". He paused for a moment and chuckles. "when we were younger, i would read to him before bed. used to love that. would help with his reading, but i guess we kinda grew up. got too busy..." He trailed off, melancholy settling over his face as picked up his fork and resumed eating.

You sat rolling this new information over in your head. It had made sense. Every time you had asked for help with new words he had deflected or struggled. He usually seemed unsettled when you had asked him questions, like he wasn't confident in them himself. "kid?" Sans began again and you looked back up to him. "don't let him know i said this. he's a bit sensitive about it but he tries his best. just... keep it in mind. maybe from now on if you have questions you can come to me?" That gives you pause. You hadn't spent much time with Sans and any time you had, he had been exhausted or cryptically prodding about your past. You could never tell what he was thinking as he wore that lazy grin like a mask, leaving you unsettled and wary. You felt conflicted, caught between wanting to share everything you knew because you felt indebted, but also not knowing anything about him. Like you were both caught in an unspoken confrontation, but never agreeing to be there. Your hands turned over each other in agitation and before either of you could say anything; Papyrus returns and breaks the tension in the room. "HERE YOU GO FRISK! I FOUND THE LIST OF WORDS YOU ARE LEARNING!"

The collection of papers, covered with your uneven handwriting flutter onto the table. You tap Papyrus' forearm twice as a thank you and write 'Rebellion' is large looped letters in the next line of space. As you do, Sans peeks over the other sheets filled with words. "damn kid, that's alotta words here". You wince at the curse and Papyrus quietly grumbles as he files through the stray pages. "SANS... LANGUAGE".

"sorry bro, but... if you wanted I could help you with some of the words you don't know". With a final glance to Papyrus, who seems relieved at Sans' offer, you nod. Sans' smile widens and he settles back into dinner. You turn back to your own, hoping that whatever you just agreed to will turn out alright. 

 

* * *

 

Toriel had spent all afternoon over her sewing machine and felt ire at the stiffness in her neck and back from bending over. She was not as young as she used to be, she lamented as she settled into her cup of tea. Not as anything as she used to be, she supposed wearily. That used to sting when she thought about it, regretting the years that passed unfulfilled and empty, but now as she looked around the sunset drenched room, hot tea in hand and calmness to the air, she didn't seem to mind all that much anymore. It wasn't what she had wanted, but she had made do. She was content in a way in the life she had built for herself and it was freeing to accept that, whatever had happened, she could not change it. She sometimes dared to daydream about what could have been. A life with a husband, children, a family. But there was value in this life too. The people she held dear and the friendships she made. It was not worse, it was just different.

She let out a sigh and turned to the unopened envelope resting on her table. She supposed she couldn't put it off any longer. Reflections had made her wistful, but it was time to deal with the problem at hand. She reached over and caught Sans' looped writing emboldened on the front. She untied the string securing the back and began. There was a fair amount of papers to unpack. One thing she appreciated about Sans, he could be thorough when he genuinely applied himself. Newspaper clippings, documents and hand written notes were all included, so Toriel started from the beginning. No birth certificate she noted, but records of her enrolling in school. Ebott Primary, so lived across the river during childhood. Then, nothing of note until her disappearance. There were multiple clippings regarding this, investigations, last known sightings, a picture of her and an interview from the distraught parents. That last one clenched her heart in empathy as she continued on.

Like the other children who had disappeared, Frisk seemed to have completely vanished. No warning or signs. Just completely and utterly gone from one moment to the next. Police reports showed interviews, arrests that were made, but by this time, seven children were missing. Those suspected had been jailed or incapacitated so that the crimes fell to an unknown serial kidnapper. From there, the trail disappeared. No more abductions took place and slowly, life carried on without them. People began to heal, maybe not completely but that was all they could do. Toriel understood that. Nothing for years until an obituary in the newspaper.

Not hers. Her parents.

Toriel's eyes widened as she read the details. 'A tragedy' it said. Gun shots had been heard and both had been found dead at the scene. As her heart ached for the circumstances of this poor, robbed family until she noticed the police report attached. No forced entry. No objects taken. Neighbors had noted shouting before three shots total with gun found at the scene. Fingerprints on the gun matched only the father. Toriel didn't need to read anymore. Sometimes, people couldn't heal and families fell apart. Toriel mourned at how it had happened for this one.

From there, the papers were more recent, detailing the night of the raid on wards. Most of these were in Sans' curled writing, becoming less well-ordered as it continued down the page. 

_everyone there that night had been freelancers. paid half up front - rest on completion. guard duty only, no details on exactly what, job to finish at sunrise. no one hired by the same person. all talking to different people, but leading back to each other. just rings and rings of monsters tori. no organised structure or hierarchy, one person being told by another what was happening and it spread around the ring. disappearances happened regularly, but always someone new to fill their place. it's organised chaos tori, impossible to find out anything about them. unaffiliated trigger-pullers are being organised, but by who? where did the equipment come from? has to have been custom made._  

Toriel noticed that much of the details that night couldn't have come from just him and Papyrus. Sans' must have found one of the monsters present that night. Toriel wasn't naive. She had a feeling about how Sans had acquired the information but she wasn't about to question him.

_no one knew what they were guarding. no one had any authority over the situation. tori, however you found out about this is the only lead we have right now. that, or talking to her directly._

Toriel bristled at the idea, but kept reading. 

_she's obviously not ready to release any details about what happened to her or where she's been. she shuts down when i try. maybe papyrus will be able to talk to her - they seem to be getting along well._

The was a large gap in the page before the final message near the bottom. 

_tori we can't keep her. she's already risked exposure once, the longer she's here, the higher chance it will happen. and it will. eventually. we owe it to her and ourselves to keep her safety in mind. the city finds out she's here, every monster will be after her. find a boat. get her across the river. i don't know how, but we can set her up, help her live and teach her how to survive out there in the meantime. but we have to do this tori. find something, and get her over there. soon._  

Toriel sighed at this. She knew. She knew what Sans said was absolutely true. The longer Frisk remained in the city, the more likely someone will find out and ultimately, Asgore would too. It wasn't that she was concerned about how it would look, but how it would affect Frisk. The power he had in the city and the people he had at his disposal. Stars above could only imagine what Asgore would do with this new asset and she needed to make sure that whatever he had undoubtedly heard about that night was pushed into unimportance. Which meant she would have to see him. She could hide it under the guise of thanking him for the information, but unwillingness sunk to the bottom of her stomach to mix with doubt and tea. It would be a loose deception and he would know it. It was unavoidable, but she let out a sigh regardless and glanced towards the phone. She would have to play this right.


	8. Aggravation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very small warning for this chapter. Past abuse mentions/self blame. Nothing too intense.

It startled you to learn it had been one month since you arrived at the restaurant. It had felt like so much more. So much you had learnt and so much to be grateful for. When you had sat down next to Papyrus to practice your writing, he had slid a tea-cup sized cake over to you, sheened with an orange icing. You had looked at him in confusion until he had told you one month had passed since you arrived. It surprised you at first. You didn't know what to think, or to do with this new information. You had shared the treat with Papyrus because it somehow didn’t feel wholly yours. However, as the days continued to tick by with the sound of the study clock, the thought had bloated your stomach and was sparking your brain. Learning that had been a curse it seems, as the measurement of time was now painfully apparent to you, occupying your thoughts as you tried to distract yourself. Days now passed with a similarity that once, was welcome, but now achingly repetitive. You still read. You loved to read, but you read every day. Papyrus still excitedly teaches you to dance, and you danced every day, slowly improving. Nonetheless, it burrowed worries in your head. Was this what your life was to be like? Would anything change? Did you want that? Why did you feel uncomfortable when you should be passionately grateful for any modicum of freedom they gave you? 

You weren't content with just the restaurant, so you cleaned the study, the bathroom, the hallway, even the kitchen, every day. Even now, that has run out with every corner and shelf dust free and shining; you were running out of things to fill your every days. The feeling got worse. You practiced writing every day. You ate three meals every day. You could now clean, feed yourself and wash your clothes every day. After a week of these endless every days, you felt as though you were going to tear apart. You haunted the study, pacing back and forth, up and down the floorboards, insides steaming and bubbling. There was a fire in you that felt like something, anything had to change, but you didn't know how to direct it. Guilt also at the fact you wanted something to change. You were happy, healthier, why did you feel like this? You weren't lost in the storm, you were the storm. You knew it was irrational, you were being irrational, but the thought didn't help. 

Papyrus seemed to notice your unrest, drawing you into activities to try keep you occupied. You appreciated the effort, but it did nothing to the constant buzzing in your head. You helped him put away groceries now when he went to the market. You learned how to fix buttons and mend tears in clothes. He encouraged you to cook on your own and he sat with you now when you painted or practiced your words. He had pulled you into writing practice one day while he worked on the puzzles he enjoyed in the front of the restaurant. The windows had been opened to let a breeze in at lunch when the cold wasn't so harsh. The day seemed nice outside, a break from the oppressive rains and sleets that had covered the city the past few days. The temperature was still unforgiving, but the want to feel the freshness on your skin and in your lungs rooted in your chest. The wind dancing in front of you with the lace of the curtain, you got up from the table and moved over to the glass, change and unknown whispered behind the pane. Feeling the delicate lace brush over your fingers, you began to lift the curtain away, city sounds pressing through hoping that you would hear them, grab them, quiet the harshness in your brain. 

Before you could look at the uncovered sapphire sky, Papyrus erupted from behind you. "FRISK! NO NO FRISK! NO NO NO!" he vaulted from the table you had been sitting at to squeeze between you and the window. "LET'S NOT STAY BY THE WINDOW! THE TABLE IS MUCH BETTER AND NOT SO COLD!" He eagerly brushed you away, lace falling from your grasp. You looked up to his worried face with concern of your own.

Why?

You let him guide you back to the table, but you didn't halt the gaze you pinned on him. He sat back down, concentrating on his puzzles while trying to ignore your stare, guilt apparent in his face. You felt the want to practice writing disappear and frustration buzz in your head. You grasp a sheet of paper and begin to write. 

_Why?_

You tap his forearm and slide the paper to him. He quickly glances over your word and his brows furrow as sweat begins to bead. A quick glance up and you can see how he's wrestling with what he wants to say. "FRISK I..." He casts furtive gazes to the windows then back to you. "WE WOULDN'T WANT YOU TO GET SICK!"

He was deflecting, and you knew that. He had done the same thing when he had hung the curtains up originally when you took them down to wash. He had been skittish then when you asked why you couldn't move them away and he was skittish now, tapping his pencil against the page of his book and pretending to concentrate. Anger, unfamiliar after so long, shot up your throat and you tapped the page again with your fist. 

_Why?_

Why could you not look outside? Why wouldn't he tell you? You just wanted to know. You would understand if you needed to stay, but you needed to know. Why?

He bristled at the thump your hand made. "BECAUSE WE WOULDN'T WANT YOU TO BE UNWELL AGAIN AFTER ALL THE PROGRESS YOU MADE." You groaned in frustration and ripped the paper back. After a few moments you shoved the paper back towards him. 

_Why can I not look outside?_

Papyrus looked to you with the first sparks of frustration in his face. "FRISK, PLEASE UNDERSTAND. IT'S NOT SAFE FOR YOU OUT THERE. IF ANYONE SEES YOU, THEY'LL WANT TO HURT YOU. WE'RE JUST TRYING TO PROTECT YOU".

This took you aback, dampening the anger in your chest. You grabbed at your first page again. 

_Why?_

Did the people out there hate you? Had you done something? Papyrus looked at the page again and back up to your crestfallen face. The tension in his body seemed to drain with the long sigh he let out. He looked back at you with sadness as he rubbed the back of his neck like Sans did a lot of the time. "IT'S... A VERY LONG STORY. A VERY COMPLICATED AND HARSH STORY THAT'S... NOT VERY NICE TO TELL." That felt like another dodge. You wanted to pry, to know more but the shadows that rolled behind his eyes made you pause. "FRISK... JUST... PLEASE. TRUST US FOR NOW. WE WANT TO KEEP YOU SAFE, SO WE CAN NOT LET YOU GO OUTSIDE." Silence reigned as uncertainty settled within you. You trusted them. You did. You trusted Papyrus at least, who had cooked your food, taught you to dance and to look after yourself. He was good and kind, but his words were tainted, soiled by someone else.

**_Trust me. It is for your own protection._ **

The memory made you shiver. Those words had always been used against you. They were wrong. They were lies. Hearing Papyrus use them felt nauseating and put a small inkling of doubt within you. You looked back over to the fluttering window, piercing blue sky calling to you, then back to Papyrus. His eyes spoke of worry. Worry for you, or worry you would disobey him? You smashed the thought as soon as it would arise. This was different. He was different. You had to believe that. His actions showed he could be trusted, just like your first-time dancing. So why did the uncertainty not go away? Why did it feel like words you didn't know were trapped in your throat? Turmoil raged within you as the quiet dragged on. You let out a sigh that alleviated no tension, but gave a small nod of your head anyway, anything to break the awkwardness between the two of you. Papyrus smiled lightly and patted your shoulder. "THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING FRISK" he said, but his relief didn't give you the warm feeling it usually did when you knew you had made him happy. Did you understand? Maybe, but you didn't agree. The fluttering curtain was a taunt now rather than an invitation and you huffed back into a slouch in your seat. Your will to write had completely disappeared now, except for one sentence. One line repeating over and over.  _What do I do?_ you wanted to write, but you had a feeling that Papyrus couldn't answer that any better than you could.

* * *

You're reading, because that was all you can do now. Your enjoyment with writing, drawing and painting has faded into indifference and now it was reading's turn apparently, as you sat rereading the same page again and again, forcing yourself to focus but failing. The story stretches out in front of you because it must, not because you wanted it to, and every sentence felt as though you are clawing through it against its will rather than the languid journey the words had previously taken you on. You snap the book shut with a huff and toss it lightly onto the other end of the couch, still having some care so that there will be no lasting damage.

You're bored and upset at the situation you were in but have no outlet. Everything was clean, chores were all done. You just can't make any use of yourself. You check the rooms off in your head one by one. Restaurant front? Done. Outside of building? Can't go outside. Kitchen? Clean. Hallway? Done. Bathroom? Cleaned. Twice. Study? You glance around at the sorted bookshelf and well-kept fire place. Done. Hallway? Finished. Stairs? 

You paused. Stairs. You had swept them and fixed the notches in the wall around them, but not up the stairs. Your foot started tapping at the thought. You haven't been up the stairs yet. Papyrus had said that he'd prefer you to stay downstairs and shooed you away, but he'd never explicitly forbidden it. Coupled with the fact that he had also dodged the question of what was actually up there, besides where he and Sans slept, the stairs had remained a guarded mystery.

You get up from your seat and peak around the doorway and down the hall. The building seems quiet, just its regular creaks as it settles against the light rain outside. Papyrus had gone out for groceries and Sans... Sans might be upstairs. He might also be asleep. But he might not even be here. Were you willing to bet on those mights? The taunting clock ticks thumping behind you into the silence decided yes, you are willing to bet on those mights. Just a quick look to see if you could clean anything up there. No harm done you convinced yourself over the wary calls of your hind brain. You slip around the corner of the door frame and slowly work your way down the hallway, keeping your weight on the balls of your feet to stop the creaks ricocheting down the hall. You pause in front of the gaping maw of the stairwell for just moment before steeling yourself and starting your ascent, placing your feet near the joins to the wall to minimize your noise.

The hallway that greets you at the top was similar to the one downstairs, just not as clean you notice proudly. Two rooms split off each side of the hall with a windowed door marking the end, dim, grayed light shining through from the weather outside. Your heart jumps into your throat at the unobstructed glass and with a whisper of guilt, you glide over to the door. Outside was a balcony, with paint-chipped railing outlining what must be the roof of the kitchen and restaurant at the front of the building.  Beyond that, you could see a rain drenched street, black tarmac bold against the dull sidewalk. Monsters were rushing to escape the rain, coats pulled tight or collars upturned. One rushed past with a bunch of papers over his head in a futile effort to stop getting wet. A large moving object pulled past the building, car you remembered, just like the one that had brought you here Papyrus had said. There are cans of garbage, a lamp post, several monsters sheltering in a store front. The whole scene is a waterlogged wash of dark gray tones and rivulets of water running down every surface possible.

It's dark and dank but the most beautiful scene you could ever remember witnessing.

There aren't as many colors as the time you could see through the cracks of your box, though your memory of that was foggy, but it was still beautiful. There are people, all around, moving and walking and living. People you didn't know, doing things you didn't understand, but you wanted to! You're pressed so close against the glass that your breath had fogged your vision and you wipe it clear again. You were enraptured with the scene in front of you. A tall monster with long furred ears pointing skyward pulled an excited child quickly behind her. Rabbit! you remembered from the depths of your mind. A frustrated old monster with deep green skin and a tan coat sat pressed into a shelter trying to read a large bundle of quickly dampening, gray papers. Giggling, you catch a small monster racing down the sidewalk, the bag slung on his shoulder bouncing with his steps. He should slow down or else he'll slip you thought, as you followed his frantic pace past the disgruntled turtle. Turtle! you beamed just as said monster tilted his head upwards and catches your eye. 

Panic shoots through you and you drop to the floor, gasp leaving your mouth before you can stop it. Your heart jumps in your chest. Did he see you? He must have. Did he notice you? You want to look back out to check, but that would risk him seeing you again. Regret balls up with the panic in your body as your breaths race in and out. If he saw you, would he be angry? Would the green turtle monster come to hurt you like Papyrus said? You had to check again. You have to be sure. Gasps rush in and out of your body as you slowly rise back onto your knees, careful to stay below the bottom of the window. You muster up your courage and quickly glance back out onto the street. The turtle is still in the same spot, still reading his bundle of papers. You watch as the moments drag out as he ruffles the pages but nothing else. You watch a few moments more, but he does nothing to suggest that he saw you.

You let out a sigh and sink back down to the floor with your back on the door. You sit there for a few moments until your heart stops pounding hard enough that you can feel it in your head. Scooting away from the door before standing up, wary of keeping a safe distance between you and it, you look back to the hallway. The other four doors remain unexplored, but now you don't know whether you have the same intrepidity as before. A quick glace back at the original stairwell reminds you that you could go back now, but to what? You feel the dread of downstairs start to creep in but shove it away by reaching for the closest door to you on your left. Determination runs through you as gently, ever so gently, you open the door without a sound. You peak through the small gap you've made into what looks like a large office. You can see the corner of a filing cabinet, as well as single chairs that back up onto a wall with a door leading into the adjacent room. You widen the gap and poke your head around the door frame, still wary that Sans may be here. After confirming that the room is empty, you gingerly step inside, closing the door with the quietest snick behind you.

You stand in the center in the room and swivel, taking in the large desk like the one downstairs in the study, the multiple filing cabinets and the three walls filled with empty cork-boards. It looks like how the study did before you cleaned and dusted, stale and unused. You move over to the desk and run your hand over its surface, coming back with a minimal cover of dust. At least the desk is still being used. You move to the shelves behind it and find a much greater deposit of dust. Just the desk then. There's a moderately sized outline in the dust on one of the shelves and you trace it with your finger, trying to figure out its shape. The radio! This must have been where Papyrus had moved it from. A quick glance around the room hints that he was right that it would get more use with you downstairs. You move away from the shelf and notice the one piece of paper still pinned to the walls. It looks like a drawing, bold shapes of blue, yellow and purple with straight edges jutting out next to each other. They remind you of odd shaped gears, with blockish teeth, but these gears have gaps in some places and overlap in others. You step closer and realize that the drawing is over top something. Faint lines and squares bisecting each other in a grid, some veering off into rounded curves or circles. A large empty strip flanks the whole top of the map, with a single title being the only thing above it. 'Ebott City - South'.

It takes a few moments before you realize. A map. This was a map. You feel yourself take in a small breath of shock as you stare at the now buildings, and roads and places that these lines represent. The river! There's the river that you remembered at the top. You don't think you had ever seen a map before, purely because of the fact you had never known where you  _were_  before. Your whole life had been a series of locked rooms, but now, now there was more. There was something else outside these walls and you could see it. Right here. The entire city spread out. You suddenly feel so much smaller and it terrified and excited you.

You run your eyes over the map, trying to find any clue as to where you were now. You race a finger down the streets following the edge of the river, remembering your rescue from the building by the river. It must be somewhere near. Parts of the map looked like they had been changed. Colors erased, drawn on, then erased again. Light depressions in the paper told of old shapes and thresholds. Running up and down parallel to the river, finally there was something. A tiny square near the very corner. The building outlined was the only one filled in black, a small square of red thinly surrounded it. You ran your fingers over the page and could feel the dip of an old square, much larger, that used to fill this side of the map. Is that where you are? You could see that there was no other building filled in black and looked back to the tiny black square surrounded by red in the corner. Was this you? Was this your world now? You think back to Sans and Papyrus and realize. The only color they wear is red. Black, gray and white too, but only red. Not blue or yellow or any other color on this map. They were red, just like you. The tiny red square surrounding the black building in the corner. You are there. That's you. In the vast expanse of the map and blocks and colors, that tiny square was you.

You don't feel small anymore. You feel big. Too big. The walls of the room seem to bulge in and press all the air out. You stumble back into the desk, thoughts like insects in your brain. That small tiny square was you. Only you. In a sea of buildings and roads and openness, that was the square you had. That was the square you were allowed. Only that square. You feel trapped. You feel trapped and you know what this is because you've felt it all your life. The situation might be different now; you like the people that keep you here, but somehow that makes it worse. Somehow, you’re trapped again. It's happened again. You have to get out, but you can't get out because people will hurt you if you do. So, you can't. But you must do  _something._ There has to be  _something_. There's a frantic scramble around the room as you move for something to grab but you don't know what. Maybe there's something in the cabinets that will help explain your panicked brain pulls from somewhere as you race over, wrenching open a draw.

Stacks and stacks of manila files greet you and you grab the first file in the draw. It's a list. It's just a list with a date neatly written in the corner. Bottles, wine, cigarettes, are these supplies? There's a few more items that you don't understand before a new date starts and another list follows it. You flip the pages. Just long lists of items, one after the other. You can hear a rational part of your brain begging the rest of your brain to slow down, stay calm as you take the next file out of the draw, but it doesn't help when you come up with the same thing. Lists of items you only partly understand. Another draw gets opened and you tug a file out at random. This time they look like names. Names and names of people. 

What are you looking for? More maps? Information? What is all this? Nothing is making sense and you're scared and trapped and the only sound you hear is the rush of breath coming in and out of you and then the turn of a door handle and...

"kid what are you doing?"

Your brain screeches to a halt with the breath caught in your throat. You clutch the files to your chest in shock and whip your head to the other door leading into the room. Sans is there, hand still on the doorknob and eyes pinned onto you, they feel like they have physical weight. He has no smile on his face and that makes his eyes look even more like the darkened pits you remember. There's a harshness to his gaze and anger in his stance and it sends fear like ice down into your stomach. He looks dishevelled, but alert. And angry. You take a step back, as if it will dislodge you from his gaze, and open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. "you're not supposed to be up here kid." he says, inflection on the words sounding like he's trying not to sound mad. It doesn't work though, as his hand slips from the door and he takes a step forward, causing you to try put as much space between the two of you and step back. Your back collides with another cabinet behind you and you try again to explain, but no words come.

Before either of you could move again, a voice shouts from below and carries from the lower floor. "FRISK? SANS? WHERE ARE YOU TWO?" He's back. Papyrus. No. 

You look over to Sans with fear, guilt and regret washing through you, hoping he understands, hoping he could do something, anything to help. You can't let Papyrus see you up here. You can’t let him know you disobeyed him. You couldn't do that to him. You don't want to hurt him, but it's futile. Sans simply stares at you as Papyrus' footstep echo down the hall and he rounds the corner. "SANS, WHERE..." his words die in his mouth as he sees you, obviously backed into a corner, file in hand, Sans covering the door. You see the shock in his face be replaced by devastation and his features fall. 

The only word that comes to mind is the one you've heard Sans use.

Shit.

* * *

 

You had been sitting in the study for what felt like hours, but had really only been forty-three minutes, the clock announcing every glacial second. You had tucked yourself into a tiny nook between the couch and the bookcase, trying to disappear into the floorboards as you cried until you didn't think there were any tears left. Now you were staring at the locked door, hoping that somehow, your gaze would somehow burn through the knob and out into freedom. 

You didn't know what to think. Guilt filled your soul as you saw the look on Papyrus' face over and over after he realized what you had done. After everything he had done for you, you had disobeyed him. After keeping you safe, keeping you happy. Keeping you here. The look on his face had been soul crushing, as Sans had ripped the file from your hands after moving over to you. "take her downstairs" he had said, short and clipped and Papyrus gently guided you out the door. It was worse that way. You could understand anger, Sans was the simple one for a change, but the silent gentleness that Papyrus showed as he led you downstairs and into the study was so much worse. The devastation as he turned to leave, wanting to say something, but in the end leaving and locking the door behind him. Keeping you here.

But you were trapped again, and you felt that deep down, you had to get out. You couldn't do this again. You couldn't let these walls be your whole world when there was so much more outside. But they had to be. The walls kept you safe. Papyrus had said that if you went outside, people would hurt you. It was already a close call with the turtle outside. What if he had actually seen you? There was also the tiniest sliver of darkness reminding you that you had done this song and dance before.  _He_  had said nearly the same thing.  _He_  had been keeping you trapped to keep you safe. To protect yourself and others. And he had lied. You shook your head. That kind of thinking was dangerous. All this thinking! It kept bouncing through your head, winding around your stomach again and again, wrenching the tension inside you higher and higher. 

You wanted this to be done. You wanted this to be over. But when the lock clicked against its chamber and the door started opening you retracted that thought and quickly decided you wanted a hole to open, so you could slip under the floorboards. You try press yourself further into your tiny space as Sans and Papyrus walk into the room. Sans casts his gaze around until it lands on the sliver of you that he can see around the couch. "come out here kid. we need to talk" he says, definitely calmer, but flat, serious. You unfold yourself from the space and stand up from behind the couch, catching Papyrus' defeated expression as you do. He's not looking at you, trying to look anywhere else but you, keeping his gaze down and his arms folded. You wince at the sadness in his eyes before you sit down on your couch. Sans takes the desk and Papyrus takes the chair, oddly reminiscent of your first meeting in the study, but this time Papyrus seem to tuck in on himself, eyes downcast, while Sans looks at you with an intense gaze, still not smiling. He pulls paper and pen of the desk and slides it over to you in stiff but oddly practiced movements. Panic begins to appear in your stomach.

He leans forward, clasping his fingers in front of him, bones sliding against each other. "frisk." The first time he's used your name. Shit. "i'm going to be honest here. if i do that, then maybe we can get a bit of honesty from you. that sound fair?" His tone doesn't indicate that there's any room for disagreement, so you nod once. "good. now, frisk you have to see how this looks to us." How did it look to them? "we bring you in, look after ya', paps has been teaching you how to function like an adult and we find you upstairs in the one place we didn't want ya' kid". He moves the paper closer to you. "why were you up there?" You gingerly take the pen and cast a quick look over to Papyrus. He was still avoiding your gaze. You were on your own. 

 _Was doing nothing. Was of no use. Wanted to clean_ you wrote.

"paps told you not to go in there frisk" 

_He only said he'd prefer it if I stayed downstairs._

"yes, but that doesn't mean you just walk into that particular room of the building and snoop around in there frisk." You squinted in confusion.

 _Why is that room so important?_  you wrote and were surprized to see Sans ruffle slightly.

"frisk" he tried to start, but you began another sentence.

 _You said we would be honest._  He frowned at that, and you wonder if that was not the right thing to ask.

"frisk, i'm not the one that got caught here. we have little to no idea where you came from or where you’ve been for the past 10 years. you haven’t told us anything about where you were or who you were with, and we’ve been patient. we’ve tried to understand, but patience only goes so far until we find you in a room where we keep… everything" He sounded angry again, almost incredulous, but it didn’t stop you from noticing how he caught himself at the end there. He was being cautious with what he was saying, and it made you realise that maybe the honesty he had asked for was only supposed to apply to you. Your brows pinched together.

Sans sighed and tried again. "how did you know what was in that room?

 _I didn't_ you wrote.

"then why were you there?"

You paused before writing, looking over to Papyrus with regret.  _It was the closest to the window._  Sans raised a brow bone, so you continued.  _I wanted to look out the window in the door to the outside. I wanted to see what was out there. I almost got seen so I hid in that room._ His brow lowered, and his gaze shot to Papyrus. You didn't have the courage to turn around and look at Papyrus' reaction, so you didn't see the expression he made that caused Sans to sigh. "well, that at least lines up" he says wearily and it's your turn to shoot a questioning look at Sans. What? Lined up? How did... Your thoughts start a panicked spiral just as Papyrus' shaky voice rises from the corner.  "GERSON MENTIONED HE SAW SOMEONE MOVING AROUND ON THE TOP LEVEL AS I WAS COMING BACK. HE THOUGHT I SHOULD KNOW, IN CASE IT WAS SOMETHING... SUSPICIOUS".  
Your brain halted. The turtle! With the papers! Dread exploded in your stomach and a wave of nausea ran up your throat. He had seen you! You had thought you were clear but in the end, he had seen you. Shit shit shit, was he coming now? Of course, that’s why they were so angry. "gerson's old, but he's not senile. he's sharp enough to figure out what you are and why you're hiding" Sans began before your thoughts began crashing into each other, running his hand over his skull. "but, he's old enough and odd enough that it might be a benefit to us. i'll talk to him. see if there's anything we can do to keep him happy and quiet" he said, rubbing at a pain in his neck, then leaning forward with a whoosh of breath and pinning you with his gaze again. “you put us in a really hard spot here frisk. how are we supposed to trust you when you won’t tell us anything?” The disappointment towards yourself condensed into loathing as tears began to flood your eyes. Papyrus and Sans had every right to be upset with you now. To hate you. You had disobeyed them and now... and now?  
Wait.  
Papyrus had said that the monsters outside would come to hurt you if they saw you if they figured out you were here. And the Gerson turtle had. Why was he not coming now? Sans said he could talk to him. Had he done that already? What was going on? You grasped for the pad of paper again, fumbling with your urgency to write. _Is Gerson coming to hurt me?_ Sans’ eyes warmed from glacial to icy as he read your words. “no, that’s not his m.o. he’s a bit crazy, but he’s not one to attack anybody”. This only spiked your confusion. _Papyrus said if anyone found out where I was hiding, they would come to hurt me._ Sans’ gaze slid over to the corner his brother was occupying and moved slowly back. “papyrus isn’t wrong. some monsters are just more… motivated than others”. This pulled your mouth down to a frown. You felt like you were talking in circles. Will they, or won’t they? _But Gerson won’t_ you wrote

“gerson’s different”

_Who else is different?_

“frisk…”

_Who else can I see and be safe?_

“frisk, going outside isn’t an option here.”

_I could go out when there’s no one around. If someone sees me, you can talk to them too_

“that’s not how this works frisk”

 _How does this work then?!_ You carved into the paper, white knuckles forming on your clenching hand. Just as your sentence finished, Sans’ bony hand ripped the pen away from you. “you don’t get to ask the questions here frisk! how in the hell are we ever supposed to let you outside when we can’t even trust you in the damn building!”

His words brought the room to a standstill, tension crushing the three of you. He didn’t yell, but the tone he used made you wish he would have, you didn’t even mind the curses. But his words steeled something inside you, turning your fear into stubborn determination. You are not going to let yourself be trapped here. You slowly took the pen back from him.

_I want to leave_

“you can’t leave”

You tapped the page again. _I want to leave._

“there’s nowhere to go”

You grabbed the paper and slammed it down on the desk for emphasis. _I want to leave!_

“no”. That single word enraged you. This wasn’t about safety anymore, this was about keeping you here. You were safe only because you were trapped, and how long was the safe going to last? They were like Him. They were just like Him. They lied. Sans and Papyrus had lied. Papyrus had lied. Butter-clumped eggs and dancing Papyrus had lied. Sans you could believe, with his late mystery nights and dark pit eyes, but Papyrus? Your head felt stuffy and useless as your heart seemed to break as the realisation hit. They were the same. Just like him, exactly like him. Keeping you trapped, keeping you locked away. This was how it started. The lies and the promises. How could you have been so stupid? Swayed over with good food and dancing. They were trying to keep you happy so that they could keep you here. How long until the trials start? How long until their own experiments began? This was exactly like last time, until He couldn't be bothered putting in the effort anymore to keep up the charade. You didn't escape the cage, this was a brand new one. Painted gold to distract you from the wide open just out of reach. The walls seemed to shrink in and solidify around you as you crushed the top papers under your clenching hands. "FRISK..." Papyrus began to question but the fire of anger ignited in your soul and you carved the words into the creased pages.

 _You lied_.

You ripped it from its place and wrote again.

_You lied._

Deep gashes through the notes and down onto the papers below them.

_You lied. You lied._

You had the pen gripped in your entire hand as you chiselled the words into them.

_You lied. You lied. You lied!_

"kid..." Sans asked in warning as the crumpled pages grew on his desk. "FRISK... PLEASE! STOP!" Papyrus almost begged as you moved from ripping the pages away to outright throwing them at the two skeletons. _You lied!_ the pages yelled across the gaps between you, hitting them both. "frisk. stop." Sans said with a final note and with darkened eyes, made to stop you. You saw him coming and this time ripped away from his grasp, forgoing the carved writing and directly ripping pages away to throw at them. _You lied!_ the pages screamed until they ran out. _You lied!_ the notebook said as you picked it up and threw it at Sans directly, scoring a hit on the side of his skull and a causing a gasp of pain from him. "FRISK!" Papyrus shouted, sounding truly angry for the first time, but only a candle to the forest fire of rage you were burning. _You lied!_ the nearest book to you yelled as you grabbed the closest object for ammunition and sent it straight towards Papyrus. He batted it away but that enraged you further, picking up books from around you at random and hurling them towards him. _You lied! Why?! How could you?!_ One after the other towards Papyrus the books flew, some finding their mark and hitting his body, others he managed to catch or deflect in time, trying to defend himself from the onslaught. Your vision was becoming blurry and you realized you had started crying, but you made no move to wipe away your tears as you grabbed for another book.

Just as you reached out you felt the air snap with magic behind you and you turned to loose your book but immediately felt the crash of energy hit you and grip your body like a vice. The air seems to become solid around you as an immeasurable weight settled upon you. You couldn't move. The ammunition in your hand slipped from your grasp and landed with a thud onto the wooden floor. Your muscles tighten under the pressure and lock you in place the more you struggle under the immense weight that seems to rest over your whole body. You gasp for breath, but even that seems hindered, your lungs feebly pressing against the walls of your locked chest. The room is finally silent, save for your gasping breaths, and you slowly drag your eyes over to look at Sans. His eye is aflame and the other is gone, a dark cavern into nothing. He has his left hand outstretched to you, holding you, as his right holds the dent in his skull where your throw hit him. The smile on his face might've not even been there at all for all the emotion it hid. Rage. Pure, unbridled rage. Your own anger cleared in the wake of another emotion. Fear. Fear of Sans. For the first time, you truly feared him like you had Him. The black hole in his skull where his eye used to be held something dark you couldn't possibly have a name for. But you had seen this before. You knew that darkness.

With one eye still alight he moved, keeping his hand outstretched towards you as he slowly walked back around the desk over to Papyrus, gaze pinning you as much as his magic did. His steps matched the sounds of the clock, slowly dragging until he was beside his brother. "let's go, paps" he murmured and they both made their way out of your line of vision to the door. As he crossed the threshold, you could feel Sans' magic waver only slightly. "you need some time to cool down kid. you can stay here until you're ready to actually talk with us" he said with a chilled warning, punctuated with the slamming of the study door. The weight of magic on you disappeared immediately and your legs gave way, collapsing to the floor under the strain of resisting the paralysis.

Breaths rushed back into your lungs, filling them the heaviness of the air around you. He'd restrained you. Sans had used his magic to restrain you. That kind of magic you knew, were familiar with. Your body had reacted immediately, tensing up to try resist the damage, but it hadn't helped. Just like previous times. With his bottomless eye and holding magic, you knew what he was. You knew what this was. They were the same. Him and Sans. Both dark, never explaining, and now you had felt that same fear with Sans as you had with him. Papyrus was the trick, the lie before the fear, but both of them were Him. You don't know how, but He had split Himself. This whole movement, this whole change was all planned. His misleading kindness and true darkness were now two, and you had been trapped in your room by them. Again. Desperately, you rushed to the door, but deep down you knew it had been locked. You twisted and pulled and the knob in futility until your hands slipped from the force you were using, and your hand struck the door. The pain centered you and you felt a rush of control and you hit the door over and over again, trying to beat it down to freedom. You hated that you had fallen for this again. Hated that you had been tricked with the same song and dance. Hated everything, hated your situation, hated the betrayal, but not as much as you hated yourself. Your tempest of emotions finally spilled over and you screamed. Your voice was croaky and broken from disuse, but you screamed. Your voice caught, finding itself after all this time and you screamed, clear into the building, piercing the air and going on and on until your lungs had no air left. You dragged the air back in and screamed again. Again and again your cries filled the air as you pounded the door with your hands. On and on your screams continued, well into the night.


	9. Break and Bend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Thank you all for being so patient while this next chapter came out. With starting a new job, studying and planning a wedding, finding time to write has become difficult to say the least. Thankfully, things will hopefully return to normal soon and I can update a lot more regularly. I was planning on including more in this chapter, but thought you deserved at least something to keep you going. Again, Thank you for all your support. It means so much seeing the comments and kudos'.

The door slammed with a note of finality and Sans dropped his magic like a crash through his soul. He lifted his hand to the spot where you'd hit him and felt the throbbing pain. Damned kid. Stupid, damned kid. Stupid, damned, tantrum throwing, pain in his ass, cross-river kid. He sighed in anger and slid his gaze over to his brother. Whatever sentence he was beginning to form to try and lift the tension died, as Papyrus seemed to have concaved in on himself. The straight posture and open face had been replaced with a skeleton who looked like he would disappear if he could. He was holding onto his elbows like it was his only support for standing up and his eyes welled with peach colored tears. Sans' anger evaporated, and it hits him how much this must've hurt Papyrus. He'd been spending every day with her, bonding with her. Of course he was upset.

"paps..." he starts softly before the door knob behind him starts to violently rattle against its lock, causing Pap to flinch at the sound. "let's... go out to the front buddy. take a time out for a bit. let her cool down" Papyrus rubs at his eyes and nods and Sans gently guides him down the hall. He sits him down at the table in the restaurant kitchen and goes over to rummage in the fridge, trying to find something pasta based that might cheer him up. The silence in the building only has a moment to settle guilt inside him before the bangs start, like waves through the building. They echo down from the study and from the corner of his eye, he sees Papyrus wince at the sounds and his shoulders hunch further. Anger sparks in his soul for the human that could do this to his brother and he tries to gently slide a rouge candy bar out from the back of the fridge. Not pasta, but it’ll help. He takes a seat opposite his brother and starts unwrapping the foil when the screaming starts. A hoarse note catches and shatters the air, full of pain and rage that Sans realizes he would’ve taken the guilty silence instead. The sound surprizes him, with Papyrus shifting his arms to grip the back of his head, half for support, half to try block the anguished cries. Gritting his teeth, Sans gets back up and closes the door into the restaurant, dampening but not silencing the yells.

A long moment draws out. "SANS WE CAN'T DO THIS TO HER" Papyrus seems to burst out, not being able to hold it in any longer. "paps, it's just a tantrum because she isn't getting her way. give her a while, she'll calm down” he sighs, returning to the table. Papyrus squirms at this, obviously unhappy. "SANS I... DON'T THINK THAT'S IT... I THINK THERE'S SOMETHING ELSE...". Sans snapped off a square of chocolate and slid it over to his brother. Pap picks it up, but turns it over in his hands, making no move to eat it. "even if there is pap, the info she found could put this whole gang under if any of the others got hold of it. who's to say she hasn't been hidden away all this time to try take us down?" “THE WHOLE GANG? SANS, YOU MEAN US. IT’S JUST US” The old argument rears its head and Sans tries to tamp down his frustration. “you know that’s not true pap. we have grillby…”

“GRILLBY DOESN’T COUNT SANS”

“and tori, who’s out right now trying to keep this whole operation afloat. that’s what we gotta do too.”

“SHE’S TALKING TO ASGORE AND YOU KNOW THAT”. Sans snaps off another square of chocolate. Of course he did, as much as he hates it, and Papyrus was never as blunt as he seemed because he sees it too. They’re barely afloat, and the amount they’re leaning on Asgore and his gang has been worrying for long while now. “she’s doing what she has to do pap. just like us. just like we have to. which means we stick to the plan and don’t put some girl above the well being of the whole gang”. He could see Papyrus ruffle slightly and he finally turned up his head to meet his brother’s eye. “I’M NOT TRYING TO TAKE YOUR JOB FROM YOU SANS. I’M DOING MINE. I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP HER.” Sans sighed and his anger tempered. "i know pap, i know, but we can’t make a big deal out of this. she got caught and now she's in time out. it's pretty simple." The silence dragged on but didn’t settle.

"I THINK WE SHOULD CALL TORIEL" Papyrus started again, arms crossed in front of him.

"pap we don't need toriel. she said we take care of her until she's done talkin' to her source. this isn't hard"

"SHE SAID  _I_  SHOULD TAKE CARE OF HER SANS AND I DON'T THINK THAT THIS IS WHAT WE SHOULD BE DOING"

"what you wanna do is best for her, not best for us"

"WHY CAN'T IT BE BOTH SANS?"

"pap, you're making this a lot harder than it needs to be."

"WELL MAYBE YOU'RE OVERSIMPLIFYING SANS"

"dammit pap! i'm just tryin' to keep this damn place standing! the info in there that she could've taken can strip us of what little we have left! i'm looking at the big picture here and you're hung up on this cross-river brat!"

The temperature plummeted, and Papyrus' panicked face turned stony. If Sans could swallow his words he would have, as regret balled low inside him. He realized suddenly he was standing, chair tipped over behind him in rage and he had slammed his fists down onto the table with such force, there were two divots cradling his hands. Time seemed to stop before Papyrus gently stood and pushed in his chair. His eyes were shielded, his usually expressive face guarded like Sans had never seen before. With a calmness he didn’t know his brother had, Papyrus began to leave, opening the door to the hallway, letting the full force of the screams enter through the open frame. "SHE FEARS US SANS.” He said over the yells. “YOU MIGHT NOT SEE IT, BUT SHE'S ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED OF US. OF YOU. THAT WAS SLOWLY GETTING BETTER SANS BEFORE YOU HAD TO GO AND USE BLUE MAGIC ON HER. TORIEL SAID WE HAD TO BE PATIENT, BECAUSE WHATEVER HAPPENED TO HER WASN'T GOING TO GET BETTER IMMEDIATELY. WE HAD TO WAIT, AND WE HAD TO HELP, AND IT WAS HELPING. SLOWLY. BUT YOU'VE GONE AND RUINED THAT WITH YOUR SUSPICIONS AND DISTRUST. NOT EVERYONE IS OUT TO GET US AND IT IS NOT NAIVE TO THINK THAT. ESPECIALLY WITH HER. AND I THOUGHT YOU TRUSTED ME ENOUGH TO TAKE CARE OF HER." 

His words hung in the air before he left, slamming the door behind him and muffling the cries from the hall once more. Shit. Sky-cursed son of a bitch, he had screwed up. Sans dragged his hand down his face in defeat as he let out a sigh that could have held his entire soul. He was right, but he shouldn’t have yelled at Papyrus like that. He thought he was doing the right thing, but he and Papyrus had never fought like that. He had always trusted Pap’s instincts, but now those instincts were against him and everything he knew. Was he really doing what was right? His head said yes, but the pit in his stomach seemed to negate that. A tempest of pain, regret and stubbornness swirled around his head as he rubbed the base of his neck, trying to dislodge where pain had settled once again. The cries of the girl didn’t help as she went on and on, filling the air of the building up with anguish, seeming to put a voice to what they were all feeling. Sans dropped his eyes to the floor, resigning himself to a night of torment before casting what was left of the candy aside and digging a large ketchup out from its hiding place in the cupboard.

 

* * *

 

You peeled your eyes away from each other like they were made of lead. You're slumped against the door of the study and the pain in your hands is the first thing to float into your consciousness. Last night comes flooding back along with a hit of nausea in your stomach. You must have fallen asleep, or unconscious. It doesn't matter. You're stuck here. The study is your prison and the brothers your captors. Your head falls listlessly back against the wood of the door and you stare up at locked door knob, the golden metal shining in mockery down at you. You go to reach up and try it again but your arms ache from the pounding and your whole body feels wrung out. The limp twist you give the metal doesn't catch, and you drop your arm back down, desolate but not surprised. You close your eyes, feeling the pressure of tears well up, but not caring as they spilled down your face. The hope you had given yourself was dangerous, you chided to yourself, and now you were paying the price. Despair lapped at your insides like it filled you up and you continued to sit there, against the wall, stiff and exhausted from sleeping on the hard floor. There was little point to moving you thought as you wallowed by the door frame, head cloudy from emotion and lethargy making your thoughts thick and gluggy. You just wanted this to stop. You wanted to be free, for this to end. Was this too much to ask?

Apparently it was, answered the study clock with every crushing sound. It dragged time, ever marching onwards as you collapsed even lower, falling away from the door and sinking to the ground and laying your head on the stiff wooden boards. The coolness embraced your cheek and your tears soaked into the wood. You longed for home that you didn't know and knew didn't exist. You longed for happiness without caveats, freedom without catches. You longed for someone to love you and you to love them back. But looking up at the locked door peering down on you like a guard on watch, you would at least settle for a way to open locked doors. 

When you woke up for the second time, you let out a groan, as the pain in your hands had intensified, accompanied with the now stiffness that wrapped itself around your ribs and settled in your back from sleeping on the hard floor. You contemplated just going back to sleep again but didn't want to try waking up in pain a third time, so you resigned to at least pulling yourself vertical and waiting for your brain to catch up and your eyes to feel like they were back inside your skull. As your consciousness sparked inside your head, your eyes slid over to the door again and the small tray of food nestled near the corner. Your brain kick started out of its exhaustion and into alert and you stumbled over to the tray. A small sandwich cut into triangles and an apple sat atop a folded piece of paper. Disgust curled in your stomach as you debated on whether to read the note or not, but curiosity won out and you opened the lined paper. I'M SORRY sat on the page in Papyrus' slim and jagged writing. Your lip curled as you scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it across the room. Of course it would be Papyrus. Trying to win you back over to their side and to try and fix things. You looked back down at the food and felt your hate congeal as your stomach rumbled. You’re not surprised he would try through food. You had loved being able to create it together, and you needed it to survive. You wondered how long it would be until they restricted it altogether. Worry ate at you along with the hunger, but you shoved the tray away. You don't know when you'll be able to eat next, but over your dead body would it be from them. You could survive until then.

Because that's what you did. 

As the tray slid, another note sat folded underneath, covered in more of Papyrus' writing. This one wasn't folded, but the letters were messier, written in a hurry. USE THE BATHROOM IF YOU NEED TO FRISK. Bathroom? What bathroom? The one outside? Surely, he didn't mean... You quickly stepped over the note to the door and gave the knob and experimental turn, expecting the resistance of the lock. When it continued the whole way, you blanched. Papyrus wasn't this stupid was he? There's no way... You slowly opened the door, looking for traps that would sound the opening of the study, but nothing came. The door was open. Why? How? When? It didn't matter.

The door was open.

Adrenaline rocketed through your blood as you desperately clawed logic back into your head. Your mind turned to survival now and determination steeled within you. The circumstances had changed and you knew you had to get out. The longer you stayed, the lower the chances got of escaping. That giant map called to you upstairs, screaming of freedom and you knew you had to take it and get out. You could use it to find somewhere safe. But how? You didn't know, but you could figure it out once you were gone. You whipped around to the study clock. 2:13. It was early. Very early. That meant Papyrus was probably asleep. Sans? You didn't know but you would have to risk it. You were about to leave when caution called you back. You quickly looked back around and spied the fire poker sitting in its holder. Better to be safe you supposed as you grabbed it, trying to quiet the implication of whether you could bring yourself to actually use it.

This time you rushed out of the study, poker behind your back and sticking the edges of the hall to quiet your steps. It really was early, and night had gripped the building tightly, lean shadows grasping at every wall. You past the bathroom without even glancing and came to the stairs, expecting either of the two brothers to jump out of every shadow, hand tight around the poker. You started up the stairs, legs sore from balancing your weight correctly so that you made it up without a sound. The second floor came into view and your heart slammed against the front of your chest. The map. You were so close. Inching down the hall, eyes darting back and forth for any movement, you made it to the door. Hope seemed to well in your throat as hand found the door and...

"frisk"

Shit. You spun around lightning quick to face him. No. No nonononoNO! You were so close! You gripped the poker in fright and rage but kept it firmly behind your back. There was no point in taking it out, he could just freeze you whenever he wanted anyway, so you kept it behind you to keep surprise on your side. You found him down the end of the hall, his eyes very dim pin points in the dark, illuminating some of his face. The street lights cast some light from the window behind you and you could see Sans was wearing his coat and hat. Just like the first time you met. But now it seemed he could wear the darkness itself, as shadows draped around him like an extra layer. You wished you could solidify your hate and throw it down the hallway, but you glared at him none the less. His hands in the pockets of his jacket made him seem even more relaxed, which made you hate him more, like this didn't mean anything to him, but you saw the tiniest glint of sweat peeking out from beneath the hat on top of that perpetual smiling mug. He was worried. Good.

The silence cut the air as it drew on, with you trying to quiet your rapid breathes until Sans finally broke. "i know what you're here for frisk. how did you get out of your room?" Your room now was it? You clenched your teeth shut, not willing to give him a damn thing, but he just seemed to know, like he always does, and let out a weary sigh. "oh pap. of course it was" he murmured, seeming almost sad before he shot his glance back to you. "so kid... what do we do from here?". That was the question wasn't it. Your eyes darted to the windowed door at the end of the hall, achingly calling to you, street lights shining through your one shot to freedom. Could you throw your poker at him and break the window before he froze you? You'd leave the map, but there was nothing you could do about that at this point. You just had to get out. Your eyes drew back to him and he seems to be in thought. Something inside him sparks and he smiles towards you and a chill passes over you. "how 'bout we make a deal?" You quirk your eyebrows in surprise as he continues. "you wanna go? fine, i won't stop you. but under three conditions."

You know this is a bad idea. Sans is enough like Him that he wouldn't ever be in a position where he could lose something, and right now you're that something. You feel like you’re bartering your soul away, but this might be your only chance. You nod once for him to continue, might as well hear him out. "one, put down the fire poker, you're not taking that thing, you could hurt someone" Damn it. You bring it out from behind you and place it gently on the floor, kicking it towards him with your foot. "good. two, you're back here by sunrise. no negotiation on this. back here. on time." Dread settles in you and you look back out the window. Absolutely not. You'll never come back here, but once you've left, how can he stop you? You'll be long gone by then. It doesn't matter anyway. You nod again and he continues. "third, you answer one last question. truthfully this time. no non-answers or avoiding it like you have with all the others. answer it straight and you can go." Panic rises up your throat but with a last glance at freedom, you nod. One question. Whatever it is, you're willing to answer it. You'll pay the toll for liberation. You just have to leave. "good" Sans says, looking entirely too pleased with himself. You prepare for the worst, hands clenched at your sides when he says "why don't you trust us?"

You weren't expecting that. That's a Papyrus question, not a Sans question. You thought it would be something about your past. That's what all his other questions were about. Questions you couldn't answer. What happened? Where were you? What did they do to you? All things you didn't, couldn't understand. It wasn't the worst thing he could have asked, but he looked sincere down the other end of the hallway. What was he playing at? You reach out, looking for something to write with but Sans shakes his head. "say it" he says, blunt words hitting you with a force that drives the air out of you. You open your mouth but the solid mass of panic stops any words from leaving. You can't. You look back over to him, pleading in your eyes, but he shakes his head again. "say it" he repeats. Dread rises in your throat like bile, but you grit it down. You can't. You haven't spoken in so long. In years. You can't do it. But you must. Tears leak from your eyes and you don't stop the tiny sob that comes forth from you. You angrily wipe your eyes, not wanting him to see you weak like this. If you can cry you can speak you reason. Just a few words and you'll be gone. One last try. One last push and determination rises within you "You..." you start but your voice is scratchy from disuse. You don't even recognize it. It's low and clawed, but the single word takes and catches in the air. "You... trapped me here" you start and finish, effort almost making you collapse. It's done. You're crying freely now and you don't care. You've done it and you make your way over to the door. 

"bullshit" you hear from behind you. You freeze. What? After all that, that's what he says? Does he realize what he just made you do? How hard that was? You open your mouth but he cuts you off. "you were here for weeks and had no problem living behind locked doors. you think you were trapped, but if that's the case, it was like that from the beginning. what changed? one day you were fine and then something was wrong. why did you not trust us? straight answer kid"

That stalls you. He's right. You had stopped trusting them completely, but not after what happened in the study. Before that. You had started doubting them. Doubting Papyrus when he said it was for your own protection. Doubting the sincerity behind their words. Something had changed and it was linked to your past after all. Damned Sans had played you in the end. You gritted your teeth and refused to meet his eyes. "You and Papyrus. You look like Him." you almost spat the words out, but they emerged, wavering and murmured. You didn't see the expression Sans made but you heard the intrigue of his voice in response. "him? the man you took you?" that made you look back up at him with a quirked brow. "That's more than one" you finished. The interest in his expression slipped. "that's fair. one question only" he scoffs as his eye brightens and the click of a lock turns over from the door behind you, "and a deal's a deal".

You realized he used magic on the door, but you start towards it anyway, slow steps, eyes never leaving Sans. You fumble behind you for the knob and open it with a jutted swing. Sans watched you go but makes no move to stop you as you cross the threshold out into the frozen, dark night. The floor below you stings slightly on your bare feet but you ignore it as you take more cautious steps back. You reach the edge of the roof and quickly flit your eyes to the down pipe on the wall. Slowly, eyes still watching him for any movement, you crouch down and lower yourself onto the icy metal, steeling yourself at the pain in your hands it causes. With a final look, you catapult down, line of sight disappearing on Sans and you slide, almost fall to the ground. You don't care about the rough landing. You get your feet underneath you and run. Run faster than ever before. Your feet sting, hitting the frozen ground and you realize you should have worn shoes, but it's too late now. You're free. You don't know where you're going but the air you drag into your lungs are the first free breathes you can remember. A smile erupts on your face and you laugh into the cold quiet night as hope ignites and you sprint towards freedom.


End file.
